


AU-gust Stories Days 1-10

by Lost_Elf



Series: AU-gust 2020 [1]
Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: AU-gust 2020, Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Angels & Demons, Alternate Universe - Childhood Friends, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Pirate, Alternate Universe - Post-Apocalypse, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Alternate Universe – Fantasy, Alternate universe – Hospital, Anal Sex, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Dark, Fluff, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Hyperion Voice Lady as a character, M/M, Plot Twists, Porn With Plot, Psychological Horror, Siren Rhys (Borderlands), Space Dragons!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-01
Updated: 2020-08-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:21:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 38,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25649473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lost_Elf/pseuds/Lost_Elf
Summary: This is the first 10 of my AUgust stories. :) Each chapter is a different AU. Summing things up in the tags would be complicated, so I'll just list important points here for your convenience, and add detailed tags to the author's note. :)1st - Fantasy AU - [E]xplicit, Porn with Plot, Siren Rhys2nd - College/University AU - [G]eneral, Short Fluff, Professor Handsome Jack3rd - Soulmates AU - [M]ature, Angst and Fluff4th - Angels & Demons AU - [T]een and Up, Hurt/Comfort, Demon Jack, Angel Rhys, First Kiss5th - Post-Apocalypse AU - [E]xcplicit, Angst, (some) Smut, Developing Relationship (fast), ABO, Plot6th - Hospital AU - [M]ature, psychological horror7th - Childhood Friends AU - [E]xplicit, Angst, Dead Dove: Do Not Read8th - Superheroes/Superpowers AU - [E]xplicit, Angst, Happy Ending, Smut, Plot9th - Royalty AU - [T]een and Up, Humour, *starring Space Dargons*10th - Pirate AU - [E]xplicit, Dark, Hurt/Comfort, Past Slavery, it's explicit for a reason
Relationships: Handsome Jack & Rhys (Borderlands), Handsome Jack/Rhys (Borderlands)
Series: AU-gust 2020 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1859482
Comments: 44
Kudos: 94
Collections: AUgust 2020





	1. Fantasy AU

**Author's Note:**

> **What is AUgust?**  
>  A writing challenge for anybody, inspired by ones like whumptober. I created this challenge for fun after my boyfriend asked me _Do you write AUs in August?_ My answer back then – right after _You are a freaking genius!_ – was no. Not yet. But now we do!
> 
> Already, people of various fandoms are participating, and I couldn't be happier. I brought so much angst and anguish to the fandom, but now I bring something positive, and not only to Borderlands, but to all the fandoms. If you couldn't participate this year, don't worry. You can start later or simply wait for the next year. :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: Explicit  
> Trigger Warnings: Mildly Dubious Consent (Rhys is really naïve and Jack is persistent; the situation doesn’t scream consent, but they are both into it), Mentions of Suicide Attempts  
> Additional Tags: Smut, Dark-ish, Siren Rhys, King Handsome Jack, Touch-starved Rhysie :c  
> Wordcount: 4358

Every man, every woman, every child, every elder, every king, every peasant, every merchant, every thief, every human and every creature knows that there are six powerful witches in the world. When one dies, another one is born, so the power is not lost from the people. The cycle started when mankind was created, and it has never stopped.

Until now...

* * *

The end of the world comes when the seventh siren is born.

* * *

The change started with a witch called Steele. She wasn’t good or bad, no witch really was. She died at the hands of a monster she summoned, and nobody noticed that no new witch was born.

The next to die was Maya, at the hands of two witch kids, who in turn were killed by witch hunters.

People were always looking for new witches, and when there suddenly were four of them missing, they became uneasy. But the prophecy talks about the seventh witch, and there cannot be a seventh when there is not a third, fourth, fifth and sixth.

Sixteen years after Steele died, Angel was killed by Lilith and her witch hunter friends. Angel’s father, the lord of a vast but empty-of-soul land called the Hyperion Moor, swore revenge upon Lilith, killing her in a battle so devastating that a curse was laid upon the humans by the Six Gods. Every being in the Hyperion Moor was turned to rock and iron – an ugly blend of Earth’s two coldest elements – and hunger and war were cursed upon the land where Lilith came from.

The people lost their witches, and the power they brought, as a punishment for greed and hatred. There was little they could do to change the Gods' will, they thought. Maybe one day, the sirens will return...

* * *

Handsome Jack was set to spend the rest of his life in the middle of his stone and steel kingdom. Whichever king used to have power over him and his land laid forgotten six feet under the ground, and none of the new kings were interested in his cursed lands.

The self-proclaimed king wasn’t interested either. His house, so big and luxurious it could be called a palace, stood abandoned on the top of the highest hill in his lands, the lone man deciding to live in a small wooden house with a small garden instead of the luxury he once owed. Besides crops, he grew blue roses that were the same colour as his late daughter’s eyes and her favourite flowers – sunflowers and orange carnations.

It is while watering the carnations that he sees another living being for the first time in years. The boy doesn’t seem to notice him, hands in the pockets of his tattered pants and gaze trained on the ground. Wherever he sets foot, the grass turns greener and flowers bloom, but the mesmerising sight doesn’t seem to make him smile. If anything, he looks saddened by every marguerite he brings to life.

Jack watches as the boy walks through the open gate into his garden, stopping for just a second. There is a crow made of black rock sitting on the fence, forever frozen in time. The boy raises his left arm to him and touches the crow’s forehead. Nothing happens for a while, but the boy watches the statue intently.

Then it moves. Slowly at first, as if waking from a deep sleep. The crow blinks and tilts its head to the side, looking at the boy. Then, it croaks and flops its wings, flying away. The boy follows it with his eyes until it’s gone.

Sharp sound pierces the air as Jack whistles in awe. The boy's body twitches as he startles, and when he finally notices Jack, he gapes at him.

“Everyone here should be cursed,” he says in disbelief.

“Not everyone,” Jack chuckles, spreading his arms tauntingly. “Here I am.”

The boy doesn’t wait any longer and breaks into a run, turning on his heels and bolting out of the garden. Jack runs right after him. He is in the advantage here, knowing every bump in the road. The kid trips and falls on the first washout he meets.

With a knee on the younger man's back, Jack easily immobilises him, twisting his left arm behind his back to be sure. The kid’s right arm is hidden under his ratty cloak and too tangled up to use.

“Whoa, whoa, easy,” Jack hisses when the young man continues to trash and struggle under him. He seems to be working himself up to absolute panic, breath coming out in irregular short bursts and halting more and more often. “I’m not gonna hurt ya, kiddo, just wanna talk,” the lord assures him.

“Don’t touch me!” the boy manages to squeal, sounding downright _terrified_. “Please, _please_ , I’ll do anything if you stop touching me!”

Jack considers it for a few heartbeats and then gets up. The kid scrambles away from him and turns, sitting on his butt in a puddle of mud while he trembles and fights to calm his breathing. Not trying to run, yet.

Looking him up and down, Jack notes that the word _man_ might fit better, because he seems to be about twenty years old. But his face is round and soft, eyes big and teary, and he generally gives the impression of a lost child.

“W-who a-are you?” he asks, voice small and choked. As if Jack was the strange one here.

“I’m the king of this land,” Jack says, smirking. “Handsome Jack, the king of the Hyperion Moor, the king of _nothing and nobody_.” His voice turns wry at the last words, smile twisting into a grimace. “I belong here, this is my land. So, the question is who are _you_?” He points an accusing finger at the trembling boy.

“R-Rhys,” the young man replies. “M-my name is Rhys. I’m alone. I-I won’t bother you for long, I just want to be alone.” He tries to get up, but Jack makes a step closer, and the boy whimpers and shuffles further into the puddle, getting more mud on himself.

“Hey, easy!” Jack raises his hands in a calming gesture. “I’m not gonna touch you if you don’t try to run, okay? I just want to know how you did that thing with the bird and how did you get here in the first place.”

After contemplating him warily, Rhys looks down into his lap. He hides himself completely in the mud-soaked cloak, only his head peeking out. Resting his chin on his knees and sighing, he says: “I can do anything. I... I’m the seventh siren.”

Jack blinks, waiting for more and not believing even it in the slightest bit. “There are no witches left,” he breathes out after a while. “They all died, and the Gods punished us for that.”

“I was born a day before Steele died,” Rhys shrugs, unfazed by Jack’s doubts. “I possessed powers I couldn’t control. My parents' house burned down suddenly, and when the ruins cooled off, people found me in the middle of them with no wounds. They thought I’m a demon and tried to kill me but failed. I was raised by fearless men who swore to raise me well, but I brought doom to every each one of them. Eventually, I decided that the world will be safer if I disappear. I ran and didn’t stop. Tried to kill myself a few times, but I gave up soon; it’s useless. I entered this cursed land to hide. I don’t want to bring the end of the world. They told me only cursed things are here, so I went here. You aren’t supposed to be here.”

While he talks, Rhys shows no emotions besides the prevailing sadness and panic, detached from his story. He curls up into an even tighter ball when it’s over, shivering.

“Well,” Jack says, still trying to process it all. “That is a nice story. It’s got all the twists I like.”

The sky suddenly thunders above them, rain beginning to pour down in buckets right after.

“Oh, that’s just peachy,” Jack groans, thinking about his carnations that are going to be all beat up from the rain. “You can do everything, huh? Can you stop the rain?” he asks, smirking.

Rhys’ eyes widen as he looks up in horror, shaking his head. “Please, don’t make me do that!” he pleads, trying to shuffle further from Jack but getting all tangled up in his cloak. “Please, please, don’t make me use my powers! I don’t want to hurt you, please!”

“Hey, that was just a suggestion,” Jack says, rising his hands again. “How about we go inside and get you cleaned up? You can leave when this is over.” Which is usually after a couple days when the moor is flooded, but Rhys doesn’t need to know that.

“Why?” the boy asks nervously.

“Because it’s raining and you’ll get cold,” Jack replies, exasperation clear in his voice. When nothing happens, he sighs and adds: “Because I don’t care if you make my house burn to the ground, I have nothing.” After another long silence, he adds in a hushed voice the truth: “Because my daughter was a siren, and I know how hard this fate is on you. I want to help you, Pumpkin. You can’t do this alone.”

Rhys blinks and his mouth falls open. They are both completely drenched in rainwater and mud when he finally nods and gets up. His clothes stick to his body as he quickly searches for something in his pocket, putting a leather glove on his left hand.

“That way I can touch things without causing any harm,” he explains.

Jack hums and heads to the house, silently thankful that the rain is almost warm and not as harsh and freezing like the ones in winter.

Inside of his house, Jack picks up a few buckets, offering one to Rhys and taking the other two himself, and he goes right into the rain again. The boy follows him like a confused puppy.

“How does a warm bath sound?” Jack asks while he fills the buckets with water from the well. From Rhys’ longing expression he knows it sounds good. “Thought so. You just need to help me fill the tub.”

With the two of them, it doesn’t take long until water is boiling over two fireplaces, the wooden tub filling with hot water. Jack took care of the fires in the kitchen and in his bedroom while Rhys excitedly carried the hot water to the bathroom and brought more water from the well when asked to.

“I’ll go first,” Jack proclaimed when the bath was filled. He was much less dirty than the boy, and also much more selfish. Without waiting for an answer, he started stripping himself of clothes. And to his surprise, Rhys didn’t blush and look away, instead watching his body with something that could only be described as fascination in his eyes.

“See something you like?” Jack asks teasingly, standing in front of the younger man naked. He even puffs his chest out and puts his hands on his hips, giving Rhys the full view.

Finally gazing to the side, Rhys shrugs his shoulders. “You’re beautiful,” he says shyly.

“Well, that’s why they call me Handsome Jack... Or used to, anyway, when there were people.” He smirks as Rhys turns to leave the room, giving him privacy. “You can stay here and watch,” Jack suggests, chuckling when that makes Rhys stop immediately. “There is a small stool somewhere, you can sit on it if you find it.” Again, Rhys takes up the offer immediately, turning around and locating the small three legged stool.

“I have one condition, though,” Jack adds, enjoying himself all too much. Rhys is not the only one who was alone for a long time, after all. “I want you to drop all your clothes into a bucket. We’ll wash it later. For now, I want you to be naked.”

This time, it takes Rhys longer to react. He frowns, looking at the door of the room as he thinks it over, and then he hesitantly starts stripping himself. First goes the cloak, landing on the floor with a loud wet _smack_. Jack whistles again when he sees what Rhys had been hiding under the cloak the whole time – an arm made of stone and iron, just like all of his kingdom.

“That is pretty,” he compliments it when he sees Rhys hesitate. The younger man blushes, muttering a quiet thanks before he removes his dirty once-white shirt, revealing the blue markings on his skin.

Rhys finally shows some shyness when he removes his pants and shoes, covering himself up with his hands. Jack lets it go, finally climbing into the bath. The water is still hot, and it takes some getting used to, but it feels great. How long had it been till he treated himself to a proper bath? Too long.

“Aaah,” the older man sighs just as Rhys sits down on the stool, almost unblinking as he watches Jack. Chuckling, the king asks: “Am I really that fascinating, or am I just the first man you’ve seen naked since discovering what yar dick is for?”

“Both,” Rhys answers hesitantly.

“Have you ever touched yourself?” Jack asks with curiosity as he washes himself with a cloth. He isn’t planning on taking too long and letting the water cool down too much.

“Once,” the siren admits. “It felt good, but...”

“But?”

“It just reminded me that I’m alone.”

For the first time, the witch sounds really sad and self-pitying, not bothering to hide it or unable to. He wraps his arms around himself, the rock one moving as smoothly as the flesh one.

“You aren’t alone now,” Jack points out. Slowly, when he is sure Rhys is watching, he lets his own hand slide down his chest, over his muscular stomach to his crotch, taking himself in hand. Jerking off while someone is watching is new to him, but Jack is into all kinds of stuff, and he is not surprised that even now he finds it easy to stroke himself to hardness.

The hypnotic atmosphere breaks when Rhys looks from Jack’s cock to his own, eyeing it sceptically, and the older man bursts out laughing. His laughter is uncontrollable and choking, he just cannot stop until he is wheezing and Rhys is _pouting_ at him.

“Oh-ho-ho, you're precious!” he hollers. “People are different, Kitten. Some have small cocks, some have large cocks. Nothing to feel bad about or something.”

“I didn’t feel bad!” Rhys hisses, though his face is completely red. “I was just... comparing.”

The choice of words just makes Jack laugh again. When he finally calms down, Rhys has his back turned to him, revealing the intricate patterns the tattoos create on his back. They seem to be on his ass cheek too. Jack can’t wait to touch them.

“C'mon, Pumpkin, let’s switch places,” he suggests, already getting out of the tub. Rhys is still pouting, arms crossed on his chest, staring into the wall.

“Aww, you aren’t angry at ol' Jack for a lil' fun, are you?” he teases, stepping closer until he can put a hand on Rhys’ shoulder and squeeze reassuringly.

The witch tenses up incredibly, even stops breathing, and Jack feels like he can hear his heart fluttering in his chest. “D-don’t touch me,” Rhys stutters after a while, taking a trembling breath. “Please, I don’t want to hurt you...”

“You aren’t hurting me,” Jack points out. “I’m fine, see?” he squeezes again, getting a gasp out of the boy that doesn’t seem to have anything to do with fear or shock. He does it again, getting the same reaction.

“Does this feel good?” Jack asks curiously, putting his hands on both Rhys’ shoulder. The metal and rock feel cold and hard, but they move smoothly and naturally. He rubs and gently squeezes both shoulders until Rhys slumps, humming contently.

“T-this feels s-so good!” he admits, leaning into the touch.

Smirking, Jack leans in until his lips are brushing Rhys’ ear. “It will feel even better paired with the hot bath,” he whispers.

The boy shudders visibly and nods, getting up so quick he almost pushes Jack to the ground. The older man just chuckles when he is bumped into, stabilising the boy with his hands.

To their disappointment, the bath is warm at best, not hot and comforting anymore. Jack sighs, about to suggest heating up another bucket or two of water, but Rhys frowns at the tub, a look of determination on his face.

Soon, steam starts rising from the water again. Too much of it. Rhys hisses when he touches the surface with a finger. “Ow!”

“Careful!” Jack snatches his hand away before he can touch it again, because Rhys looks like he wants to do just that. “Let’s just wait till it cools down. Won’t be long.”

Rhys sighs but gives up on trying to manipulate the water’s temperature. He lets Jack look at his finger, the skin a little red but not seriously hurt. The room begins to fill up with steam while Jack kisses the little red spot, eliciting another gasp from Rhys.

“I thought you are immortal,” he says, rubbing the spot a little.

“I am,” Rhys confirms. “As far as I know. But that doesn’t mean I can’t get hurt or don’t feel pain and hunger.”

“That’s how you lost your arm?” Jack asks curiously, taking the opportunity to touch it again, studying Rhys’ knuckles made of stone.

“No,” the younger man replies. “That was more complicated...” he looks away shyly, but when Jack doesn’t say anything, merely gesticulates with his hand that he should go on, he explains: “When I entered the moor and saw the cursed animals and people, I felt a sort of... connection to them that was not complete. It made me feel restless, incomplete, as if I were searching for something. Deep down, I somehow knew what I have to do, so I did it. I let my arm fall off and replaced it with rocks and iron pieces I found on the ground. Some people from other lands were trying to mine the steel out of your people, but they turned to steel too. I used only what they destroyed.”

“Hmm,” Jack hums, frowning at the thought that someone tried to exploit what is his. “Did it hurt?”

“No,” Rhys chuckles. “I don’t think I would be able to do it if it did.”

“Hmm, but pain can be good,” Jack hints darkly. “I can show you how much good pain can be.”

To his surprise, Rhys doesn’t back away. He looks _intrigued_ , even. “Maybe,” he says with a coy smile.

The water is a good temperature by then, so Rhys eases himself into the tub. Jack lets him relax, soak in the feeling, while he gets some soap and a brush to scrub the dirt off Rhys.

“First, we need you to relax,” he hums and starts massaging the younger man's shoulders. Rhys tenses up for a second, which seems to be a pattern, and then relaxes, melting into the touches. Soon, soft moan-like sounds are coming from his mouth. When Jack leans in, he sees that Rhys’ eyes are closed.

“Thaaaat’s it, kitten. Nice and relaxed. Is this the first time in years someone treated you nice?” he asks thoughtfully.

“E-ever,” Rhys answers, chasing more touches.

“Aww,” Jack hums, feign sympathy in his voice. “Lemme make up for it, then.”

Jack washes Rhys with a cloth and soap, and sometimes the brush, getting the dirt off his feet and nails. Rhys blushes as he is pampered, not allowed to help Jack in any way. When Jack wants him to kneel up, bracing on the edge of the tub, he doesn’t even complain or suspect anything. Only when the cloth dips between his ass cheeks he squeals.

“Wh-what are you doing?” he asks in a high voice. “Why-why are you t-touching me _there_?”

“Need to clean you up, Kitten,” Jack hums, putting one hand on Rhys’ hip to keep him from moving away. He runs the cloth over his butthole several times, and then teases at the muscle with a finger wrapped in the cloth. “You wanted me to show you something nice, right?” he asks.

Rhys turns his head to the side, and from the way his pupils are blown and his mouth hanging half-open, Jack knows he’s got him.

* * *

The fireplace in the bedroom is heating up the room so much that both men can sit there naked, even though the weather outside is harsh – storm, wind and rain attacking the wooden house. Rhys and Jack are content, after eating a warm soup and bread, and drying by the fire, the siren is almost dozing off in the lord’s lap. But Jack has different plans.

They are sitting on a fur, Rhys leaning back against Jack, Jack’s hands slowly mapping his body. Every touch makes Rhys melt and lean up for more at the same time. Until Jack’s hand suddenly wraps around his half-hard dick – that gets a different reaction.

Rhys arches up and moans, only to be pulled back to Jack’s chest, held tight. The older man gives him a few long strokes, each one of them earning a similar reaction, until Rhys is hard. His cock begins to leak, slicking up Jack’s hand.

The younger man whimpers when the hand leaves his cock. He begins to turn his head to plead for more, but then he feels a finger dipping between his cheeks and teasing his entrance. He holds his breath and waits.

Jack is not a patient man. You could say he waited for his death in this wasteland rather patiently, but he was busy most of the time, growing food and repairing the house. Patience just isn’t in his nature. So, when feeling that Rhys is mostly relaxed, he pushes his slick finger almost all the way into him in one go, holding Rhys down when he tries to arch off.

“ _Aaah!_ ” the witch moans, pain and pleasure making heat pool in the pit of his belly. “Mo-more!”

“As you wish,” Jack hums, but then he carefully pulls his finger out. Out of Rhys’ sight, he had already prepared one of his last bottles of scented oil. He pours a generous amount on his hand now, all the while shushing the whining and complaining boy in his lap.

This time, when Jack’s finger slips in, Rhys sighs as if in relief. He relaxes, allowing Jack to push in a second finger, though getting him all the way in to the knuckle earns him a pitiful whimper and a pouting frown. Both go away when Jack fists Rhys’ cock again, the boy desperate for any touch or contact, but for this one the most.

Jack fingers Rhys for just a little while longer, and then he manhandles him into a better position. Facing the fireplace, on his hands and knees. Jack kneels behind him, getting more of the oil on his own cock.

“Brace yourself, Rhysie, for here I come,” he says jokingly, smirking, and the younger man just nods, body flushed hot in expectation.

Again with the impatience, Jack pushes in in one go. Rhys practically howls, hands scrambling to get away from the sudden, alien intrusion, but Jack hold him in place, breathing heavily and cooing vaguely soothing sounds.

“It’ll feel good in a minute, I promise, Princess,” he hums.

Thrusting shallowly, tentatively, Jack does little to help Rhys get used to the burn and stretch, knowing well what he is doing. When Rhys finally stops gasping for breath, a tremor settles in his body, which Jack chases away with his big hands, stroking every burning hot piece of skin he can find.

“Doing so good for me, Rhysie,” he praises, his thrusts rising in intensity. He angles his hips to search for that one spot, and when he finds it – judged by Rhys’ body jerking –, he grins. “You see,” he says vaguely and begins aiming for that spot on each thrust.

A confused moan slips Rhys’ trembling lips, followed by another. Jack starts fucking him at an even, quick pace, adding more and more heat to the pool in his guts, spark by spark with each movements.

“Gods, you feel so good!” he groans. “I hoped this would last longer, but…”

“B-but I’d die!” Rhys forces out between moans.

“Probably,” Jack chuckles. He gathers Rhys up with one hand around his waist and the other on his neck, pulling him up to his knees and pressing him flush with Jack’s chest. He fists his cock again, jerking Rhys off at an uneven pace as he pounds into him, hammering his sweet spot with brutal force.

Rhys comes with Jack’s name on his lips, body clenching around his cock. Jack curses, pushing Rhys on the ground and fucking him viciously. When he comes, he bites the spot where neck meets the shoulder, making Rhys clench up even more, adding to his pleasure.

* * *

Needless to say, Rhys doesn’t leave the next day, or the day after that. They have a lot of sex, eat monotonous food until Rhys gives it a try and produces a feast out of thin air. He really can do anything, though he fails more often than he succeeds. So far, no lethal catastrophe. It is a little disconcerting that he doesn’t seem to get better, but they will figure something out.

On the wake of the seventh day since they met, Jack packs them both a satchel with some necessities and drags Rhys out, setting off on a journey.

“Where are we going?” Rhys asks sleepily, rubbing his eyes and walking a little funny from yesterday night’s activities.

“To my castle!” Jack answers with a broad grin. “We’re gonna wake up every person and creature that we find on the way, _save them_ ,” he emphasises. “And we’re gonna save the whole world! Just trust me, Kitten, I know what to do!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In my head, this story continues like this: Jack takes Rhys to his castle, becoming a king again. He manipulates and controls Rhys. Rhys doesn't get any better with his powers, but Jack is crazy and forces them both to believe that he is in fact controlling them. With an army of steel and stone, Jack attacks other kingdoms, trying to use Rhys as a weapon, inevitably resulting in Rhys destroying the world.


	2. College AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: General  
> Trigger Warnings: none(-ish? XD )  
> Additional Tags: Fluff, Professor Handsome Jack, Student Rhys  
> Wordcount: 619
> 
> This is a prototype story I wrote for my College AU longfic that I will totally write one day. Take this as a trailer. :D

Jack walks into his bedroom and pauses. It suddenly feels like he shouldn’t be there, like he is interrupting something sacred. Not that he is a religious man, but even the programmer in him knows that some things in life are bigger than him. Life has shown him as much.

He is not the type to wonder what kind of force brought his student to his doorstep in the middle of a storm. Because the only thing that remained dry on the young man was his laptop, carried in a waterproof bag, and the rest of his things was soaked, he knew that Rhys had walked all across the city on his own, through the harsh weather.

Nothing needed to be said, and the next thirty minutes were spent in absolute silence. Jack let the student in and took his duffel bag, wincing when he noticed that the contents were more water than clothes. He led Rhys into the bathroom and got to wringing the clothes dry and hanging them on any heated surface in the house. When he was done, he finally remembered that Rhys has no dry clothes to put on after he warms up in the shower, so he brought some of the sleepwear he kept at Jack’s place to the bathroom.

Finding the younger man sitting on the floor of the shower and staring into nothingness, Jack realised that this will take much more to fix. He spoke up first, asking Rhys to get out of the shower. He helped him dry himself, the student seeming almost apathetic. Rhys put on the clothes when he was dry, and finally started speaking when he sat cross-legged on Jack’s bed as the older man dried his hair with a soft towel.

He fell asleep shortly after telling Jack the story of how he was disowned and thrown out, only managing to mumble a single plea – the reason why Jack stepped into the room in the first place.

Rhys is asleep. That is what makes him stop dead in his tracks. He doesn’t seem to have nightmares, or any dreams at all. _Finally_ , Jack thinks to himself. Rhys is curled up on the bed, one arm wrapped around his knees and the other so close to his face that Jack wouldn’t be surprised if he was sucking on his thumb. In loose old boxers and a rucked up shirt, Rhys looks incredibly fragile and pale on the dark bedsheets.

Jack walks closer carefully, tiptoeing until he can put a hand on Rhys’ forehead. He doesn’t have a fever, but he sleeps like the dead anyway, and so Jack moves him slightly to pull a blanket from under him and tuck him in. Rhys doesn’t even stir.

At that point, Jack finally remembers why he came here. Rhys asked him to wake him up before 5 PM in case he manages to fall asleep, so he can work on his homework. But Rhys hadn’t slept for more than a day, and Jack can’t wake him up yet. He might not be a good man – though he is trying – and he might not be religious, but he _can’t_ wake Rhys up right now.

He will help him with the homework later, Jack decides. It’s not like he doubts Rhys would be able to do it on his own, but the sooner it is done, the sooner he can get a full night of sleep.

Jack tiptoes out of the room after making sure Rhys is really tucked in and won’t be cold. On his watch, he sets a reminder for 7 PM. By then, he should probably cook something good and warm. He can show Rhys the love he deserves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Are you curious about what happened? o.O


	3. Soulmates AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: Mature  
> Trigger Warnings: none(-ish)  
> Additional Tags: Angst and Fluff  
> Wordcount: 4150
> 
> For this soulmate AU, I went with names on your skin (more details in the story). I just want to bring up something that didn’t fit into the story: the soulmate mark _always_ works. Always. It is not even relevant for the story, but I put too much thought into this AU, so I want you to know. :D
> 
> Also, I somehow managed to post the wrong chapter at first, lol. Got distracted, I guess. That's what I get for having everything ready on time. :D

Since the day you are born, your soulmate’s name is written on your inner thigh. For the first few years, the letters are too small to read, but at the age of ten or so, you can try to read it and find the person. If they die before you find them, the name on your skin will change to a different one. Most people never find out how their soulmate died; all they have is a new one. If you lose your soulmate after meeting them for the first time, the name on your skin will fade into a mere shadow, and another one will appear under it.

Cursed with a dull and common name on his thigh – _John Green, duh_ – and blessed with an unusual name given to him by his parents, Rhys accepted his fate, knowing that his soulmate will most probably find him, and not the other way around. He knew nobody was ever left alone. People dated and married people who weren’t their soulmates, but eventually, universe would throw your soulmate in your way. As many others, Rhys was impatient enough to want to cheat that – what with today’s technology was almost possible – but too many people had his soulmate’s name, so he was forced to wait.

Rhys was of the opinion that some travelling can’t hurt his chances, so he studied grade school in a different town than the one he came from, and then a college on a different planet. On one hand, he was a little lonely, got bullied for being a stranger everywhere he went, and had to abandon any friends he made, but on the other hand… he just felt that he is really doing something for his future. If he can persist, hold on just a little while longer, he will have a great school, awesome job (most probably at Hyperion) and his soulmate. He will have a dream life.

The young man, fresh graduate in Computer Sciences, faced a minor setback when Handsome Jack took over Hyperion and the program that would automatically get Rhys a job there was cancelled. He wasn’t angry at that man, too busy admiring what he made of the corporation basically overnight. Believing in himself, he even sent out an application, but with the new regulations and everything, he didn’t even get an interview. So, Rhys applied to another school.

As a 25-year-old with two degrees, Rhys wasn’t able to tell what he hated more – his part-time jobs at bars, restaurants, beaches, parks, stores and libraries, or the side-gigs he was offered at school that he wasn’t paid for but that made a nice bullet point on his resume. But this time when he applied, he got an interview, and after travelling to the main Hyperion base on the planet, he got a job at Calisto, a nice little planet where Hyperion had multiple bases.

 _This is it_ , he thought when he landed on the planet. Calisto being a small, mostly industrial planet, there weren’t many shuttles going there or back, and the one he took was overpacked, uncomfortable and barely heated. But not even the process of verification and all the bureaucracy he had to go through after he landed got Rhys’ mood down. One billion people lived on this planet, the population growing and changing all the time. He felt that he is on the right path, that this should be his life.

But only a week after he started working there, he was fired.

Well, not exactly fired, but he lost his position, and a cryptic message informed him that he will work on the Helios space station from now on. What position will he take, he had no idea. Not that he cared as he begged, basically on his knees, to his boss to keep him on the planet. He didn’t want to work on the space station with so much security that an average employee only met twenty new people throughout their entire career. And the death rate on the station was the highest in the whole corporation. Rhys couldn’t imagine his life there.

But there was no denying the order. Because of the lack of regular shuttle rides. Rhys had to travel in a supply shuttle with no air, having to have an OZ kit on himself. That turned out to be common practice – he wasn’t even alone on that shuttle. But it didn’t help his salty mood.

“So…” he hummed, looking at the four other passengers – one woman and three men. “Were you all also suddenly relocated to Helios without a reason or being told what exactly will you be doing there?”

The people exchanged looks. First to speak was the woman: “I’m returning from a check-in; my job is to supervise Calisto and many other planets.”

“I was promoted,” piped up one of the men.

“Me too,” another joined.

“I asked to be sent there,” the last one shrugged. “Never heard of something like sudden relocation. Sounds like you’re about to be murdered, or given to R&D as a test subject… So, murdered.”

The woman joined in with a silent nod of agreement, her face disinterested. Rhys didn’t try for more small talk for the rest of the ride.

The shuttle landed in a secondary hangar only used by loader bots who delivered the supplies to where they were needed. The sight of dozens of robots didn’t boost Rhys’ confidence in his own survival. While he stood frozen in spot, the other four people headed on their separate ways, some of them granting him a look of pity.

And then everything became even worse, because just as Rhys shook himself of the terrifying thoughts that some loader bot is going to take out a weapon and kill him, _eight_ armoured and armed men walked in, asking for him. Thinking himself already dead, Rhys dropped his suitcases and raised his arms in surrender.

The soldiers led him away, and for some reason, one of them decided to take his suitcases and carry them wherever they were headed. Rhys thought that maybe they wanted to search it for valuables before burning it, so he shot the man a dirty glance.

Although Rhys never really wanted to end up on the space station, he had to admit that it was amazing. All the technology, the random windows letting him gaze into open space, the overwhelming spirit of Hyperion filling every room. Pity he was about to die and wouldn’t get to properly enjoy it. Hyperion had always been his #1 company.

Rhys realised that he is being take to Handsome Jack’s office and not the R&D or the holding cells exactly five seconds after he walked into Handsome Jack’s office. He was, to his defence, too busy saying goodbye to all the things he enjoyed in life. (And yes, he did think about his soulmate somewhere in this galaxy waking up with a different name on his thigh. Hopefully, John Green won’t get someone with a too common name next, and will find them soon.)

“Okay, gentlemen, thank you and you can go,” Handsome Jack said, eagerly getting up from his chair and basically jogging down the stairs towards Rhys. The soldiers left, leaving the two men alone.

Rhys gulped audibly, looking at the CEO with wariness. He looked kind of… _off_ today. Not like the documentaries and propaganda and horror stories on the echonet forums pictured him. Rhys expected to already be dead, because if half of these stories was true, Handsome Jack only smiled after a murder or after making a fat sum of money, and here he was grinning like a shark. Very happy shark. And Rhys wasn’t dead yet. _Wait, is Rhys being sold for a fat sum of money to someone?!_

“You surely don’t talk much,” Jack commented.

But what was Rhys even supposed to say?! Please, don’t kill me? Oh, on a second note… “Uhm, I—” he didn’t get to finish his plea, though, because Jack interrupted him.

“That’s alright, I only need a few words from you, anyway,” Jack assured him, giving another uncharacteristic smile. Maybe he is like this in private? Or it is a body double. “What’s your name, Cupcake?” the CEO asks. He has to repeat the question once, because Rhys has hard time wrapping his head around it.

“Uh, Rhys Strongfork,” he says. “Sir,” added in an afterthought.

“Uh-uh, can you spell it?” Jack raises his eyebrows at him expectantly.

He does so, rubbing the back of his neck self-consciously. It reminds him of all the times he moved into a new place. “Uh, R-H-Y-S S-T-R-O-N-G-F-O-R-K.”

Handsome Jack grins like a mad man, his eyes glistening. “Peachy! Now tell me, what is the name of your soulmate?”

“ _What?!_ ” Rhys sputters, blinking at the CEO. _What kind of question is that?!_ Well, a common question when flirting, but not— _Is Jack flirting?!_ No, it— _Does he know Rhys’ soulmate somehow?!_ “John Green! Do you know him?!” Rhys blurts out quickly, feeling a minute rush of excitement that he could meet his soulmate any moment before the fear of imminent death returns.

Jack pauses, his smile falling a tiny notch. He hums and clucks his tongue, mutters to himself that it _makes sense_ , and then smiles brighter again. “Yes, I do,” he admits.

“Oh,” Rhys says, suddenly unsure about it. He is confused by the whole situation and wrecking his brain for a way to ask _who is it_ , so he misses the next thing Jack says. “Uh, sorry, what did you say? Sir?”

Jack rolls his eyes dramatically and then repeats himself. “Me.” He waits a few heartbeats, blinks and repeats: “Me,” spreading his arms.

“You?” Rhys asks, as if having no idea what that means, but a small voice in the back of his head tells him that it means exactly what he thinks it means. “You, like, _you_?” he asks, just to be sure.

Chuckling, Jack works himself back up into a giddy mood, looking like an excited child, about to unwrap a birthday present. “Look, I know this is a lot to grasp, with _me_ being _me_ , all awesome and powerful and handsome… I can just show you, okay? And you’ll show me…”

Rhys blushes, fighting the urge to look away. It is the logical thing to do, but even if he didn’t have to get naked to do that, showing someone else the name on his skin feels very intimate. However, he had once witnessed two men finding each other randomly in the bar, and they were so excited they both dropped their pants to make sure the names are really each other’s, and he had heard even more funny or embarrassing stories like this one, many being used in movies.

“O-okay,” he says, trying to will his blush away but probably only making it worse. “I-I think that is a good idea—”

He is, once again, interrupted as Jack cuts in: “Of course it’s a good idea; it’s _my_ idea!” Although terribly egoistical, Rhys finds that it actually… makes him relax a little. He finds it funny.

“So, uhm, mind if I sit down?” Rhys asks, eyes drifting to the lounging area of the office.

“Yeah, sure!” Jack almost surges forwards, slowing down after a few steps and then backtracking to get Rhys to follow him with a hand on the small of his back. Or it would be there if he actually dared to touch, but like this, Rhys can only feel it hovering above his clothes.

There is a nice black sofa, and a fire crackling in the fireplace, radiating heat. Rhys thinks that he is doing this in a much nicer atmosphere than many others, sighing thankfully when he imagines having to do it in the hangar.

Jack seems to be unable to sit down, pacing and trying to not look at Rhys, though he peeks every once in a while to make sure he is really doing it. The younger man has to bite his tongue to keep himself from turning into a blushing, stuttering mess as he unbuckles his pants and shoves them down to mid-thighs.

“Okay,” he says, finding a sort of composure. “You can—” he is cut off by his own yelp when Jack’s hands land on his knees, gently holding his legs open as the CEO stares at the name.

There is a long silence as Rhys lets Jack take the sight in. He busies himself with studying the other man’s expression, watching all the emotions whirl on his face. It occurs to him, finally, that Jack is older than him, considerably, and he had to wait much longer to find Rhys. This moment probably means a lot to him.

“One would hope that universe learns my new name, huh?” Jack eventually jokes, straightening up.

“It would make the search easier for me, definitely,” Rhys laughs at the mental image of having HANDSOME JACK on his thigh, probably in bold, yellow letters if it was up to the CEO. “But I would think I’m crazy or broken.”

“Why is that?” Jack asks as he unbuckles his own belt.

Rhys blushes again, looking to the side. “This is too good to be true,” he admits.

Laughing – and _God_ , did Jack’s laugh _always_ sound this _divine_? – Jack shoves his pants down to his knees, and angles his leg so Rhys can see. “See for yourself, Pumpkin,” he makes an inviting gesture with his hand, making Rhys’ blush even worse, the situation a little awkward even with all the famous movie scenes he knew by heart that happened just like this.

On the inside on Jack’s thigh, there are three names. Two almost faded and one loud and clear – Rhys’ name. _Oh_. So, it is true. And _oh_. Jack lost not one, but two soulmates before finding him.

After staring at the other names for too long, Rhys finally tears his eyes away. Jack is looking down at him, his smile gone. He doesn’t look exactly sad, but his expression is hurtful, and Rhys can’t think of a way to help him.

“So, we are soulmates,” he says. “How crazy is that? I mean, how did you even _find_ me? A-and, what will happen now? I mean, I’m happy I found you, and I’m happy here, I mean on Helios, really, but I —” Oh no, he is rambling, isn’t he? “— I thought I was about to die and now I’m here, with you, my soulmate, and—”

Jack silences him with a finger on his lips, pulling his pants up with his other hand. Reminded of his own partial nudity, Rhys pulls his pants up too, and then sits there, looking up at Jack expectantly but nervously. He doesn’t want to ruin this.

“Let’s take it easy, okay?” Jack suggests, sitting down next to Rhys. So close their knees touch, but not close enough to be uncomfortable were one of them to decide they need a break or more space.

“I had a little program periodically checking the Hyperion database for your name,” Jack begins to explain. “It seemed rare enough that if it found someone with that name, it would probably be the right person. And when it pinged me few days ago, I just knew it was you. I mean, you look stunning, you are obviously smart, you work for Hyperion… You’re perfect!”

Rhys blushes, hiding his face in his hands, but Jack carefully pulls them away. “Don’t hide yourself, sweetheart, I wanna see you. I know this is a lot to take in. When I saw you— Well, when I saw you, I knew it’s _you_ , but then I started having doubts. You’re young, and… I’ve lost all my loved ones. I was worried that you…”

“That I won’t want you?” Rhys guesses, peering at Jack curiously. “You are my dream come true.”

A brief smile passes Jack’s face, but then the pained expression returns. “Promise that you’ll never leave,” he blurts out. “Promise I won’t lose you. Pl—… _Please_.”

Rhys opens his mouth to make the vow, but then he shuts it again. Jack is right – this is a lot. Apart from the fear of losing his life when he comes to Helios, he certainly didn’t expect to find his soulmate here, and the fact that it is Handsome Jack himself, his idol and the CEO of the company he works for… Well, _worked_ for.

Who knows what Jack is planning? They say that the CEO is crazy, a maniac, a sociopath, and although Rhys doesn’t really believe these claims, they need to be taken into consideration. Obviously, Jack won’t kill him. He looks like he will do anything to protect Rhys, and that is nice, but Rhys once read a book about a man who locked up his soulmate to protect her, and she was never allowed to get out of the house, and Rhys really doesn’t want to end up like that fictional woman. He also dedicated most of his life to getting this job, so if Jack wants him to quit it and be a trophy in his private quarters, he is going to put his foot down. And Jack is older and more experienced; what if he won’t even like Rhys?

They need to talk about all of that and set rules – that much he knows. But how does one bring that up to their soulmate, yet alone Handsome Jack? Rhys struggles to put a sentence together, not even sure how is he supposed to address Jack. _Sir_ is out of question, because Rhys’ pride won’t allow that, but he doesn’t feel confident enough to just call him _Jack_.

The CEO, fortunately, solves most of the problems for him. “Are you alright, Pumpkin?” he asks with concern.

“Y-yeah,” Rhys nods, swallowing over the lump in his throat. “It’s just… Can we talk about some things first?”

Jack’s eyes widen, and he nods his head fast, standing up and pacing. “Yeah, sure, anything, just say so and I will— I’ll just shut up; you talk. Don’t be afraid to interrupt me, just— Just talk, yeah? I’ll listen.” He sits in a chair opposite to Rhys, giving him space, and leans forward with his elbows on his knees, fidgeting with his hands almost frantically.

Rhys observes the behaviour for a while and then forces himself to begin. Things of the highest importance first. “So, my job at Hyperion…” he starts, carefully looking out for Jack’s reaction. “I want to keep the job. Or I guess, a similar job on Helios. Maybe a better job…”

Jack’s eyes light up momentarily. “Sure! I’ll give you whatever position you want, or you can start as a janitor and work your way up, or I can make you a Vice President, whatever you want! I’m not gonna stop you from having a job. There will be some security measures, but you won’t even notice them. I don’t want too many people to know who you are to me, that’s dangerous. But yeah, you’ve got a job.”

Rhys lets out a sigh of relief that he didn’t know he needed. “I think I’ll try something on the same level I started at, but, like, my actual specialisation and not data-mining… Please,” he adds with a shy smile.

“Sure!” Jack nods. “Do you, uhm, want to sort it out now?”

“No, no, it can wait,” the younger man assures him. “There are more things we need to talk about first. Like…” he reconsiders his priorities shortly, then decides. “The security measures. What did you mean by that?”

Straightening out, Jack studies Rhys’ face, once more almost frantic. “Nothing terrible!” he assures him. “I put together a team that will take care of your security. If you want to go to a public place, like the hub or some of the market places, you’ll need to let them know at least twenty minutes in advance, so they can get some people on position, but your movement won’t be restricted. You can meet people and visit places, but once in a while, the team will do a background check on whoever you are talking to, to make sure they are not here to kill you. You won’t even notice them doing their job, I promise! They won’t bother you at work, and— Oh! They won’t update me on your location twenty-four/seven, don’t worry, I won’t have them spy on you.”

Jack talks so fast Rhys doubts anyone ever managed to interrupt him not because they would be killed but because it just seems impossible. He doesn’t even seem to be _able_ to stop until he gets at least half of the words out. Most of the things he says, Rhys didn’t even consider before, but Jack assures him over and over that nothing sinister is going on here and no pressure will be put upon him.

It is… nice. But at the same time, it is painfully obvious that it has something to do with the two faded names on Jack’s thigh and his previous statement that he lost his loved ones. All he is doing must be encouraged by the old hurts, and for some reason, it hurts Rhys to just think about it. He wants to… He wants to hug Jack, _a lot_ , until everything is alright.

“Okay,” he breaths out instead of doing something stupid. Then he pauses. They should talk about more things, probably get to know each other. Rhys knows who the CEO appears to be in documentaries, but that is proving to be something as far from reality as it can get. Jack is sitting there, listening to his every wish and demand, and wanting only one thing in return.

Rhys smiles and stands up, slowly, walking over to Jack, who watches him with unblinking eyes, gradually tensing up. That is until Rhys stops right before him. It is as if some strange universe power made him do it when he leans in and kisses Jack. Shyly, like people trying love out for the first time. He cups Jack’s masked face with one hand, feeling him relax under him.

A rather desperate sound leaves the CEO’s mouth when Rhys pulls away. The younger man yelps when he is pulled into Jack’s lap, landing with his cybernetic shoulder pressing into Jack’s chest in a way that has to be painful, but neither one of them cares as their lips connect one more time in a slightly more passionate kiss, like old lovers finding each other after years of searching.

“I promise,” Rhys lets out in a breathy chuckle when they finally part, Jack’s arms locked securely around his waist and his own organic hand cupping the older man’s jaw. “I promise you will never lose me.”

Jack pulls him closer, presses his face into the crook of Rhys’ neck and inhales. Exhaling slowly, he nods, but then a shiver runs through his body and he shakes his head. “I can’t lose you,” he mutters into Rhys’ skin. “I lose everything I love, and you’re just too precious, so innocent, so…” he inhales again, gently squeezing Rhys, “ _soft_.”

The younger man wants to say more reassurances, both arms now wrapped around the CEO’s shoulders, but Jack speaks again. “I was married to my soulmate, living a happy life, when she died, killed by our daughter accidentally when bandits attacked us. I was trying to protect my daughter, so I hid her away from the world. She was a Siren. But she didn’t understand, and she lured Vault Hunters into her bunker to kill her. And when my second wife learned about my past, she tried to run. I let her; I swear I let her! But the shuttle she used was damaged by some debris in the atmosphere and she died. I just wanted her to be happy! I never wanted to hurt any one of them.”

Rhys inhales sharply, unable to hold his breath any longer, and Jack tenses up more, holding him tighter. “Please, don’t leave me, _please_ ,” he mumbles frantically. “I won’t hurt you; I promise I’ll never hurt you, just stay, please! You don’t need to do anything for me, you don’t need to live with me or ever talk to me, I just want to know that you are safe, please, please!”

“I’m here, Jack,” Rhys hums, feeling the older man’s pain crushing them both. He doesn’t know how to make it better, but he wants to try.

“Say it again,” the CEO pleads, finally loosening his hold and looking up.

“I’m here,” the younger man repeats with a soft smile. “… Jack.”

They kiss again, and it is full of tears and raw emotions pouring from their hearts, filling up the room and threatening to drown them. They don’t care. They have each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [somewhere on Pandora, a room with three people – a man with dreadlocks, a woman with blue tattoos and red hair, a large, muscular man]
> 
> man with dreadlocks: “It’s confirmed! My source says Handsome Jack found another soulmate.”  
> woman with red hair, mindlessly rubbing a faded name on her thigh: “Good. Let’s pay them a visit and introduce ourselves.”  
> big man: “He looks like a kid, we can’t—”  
> woman with red hair, yelling: “Handsome Jack took my everything! We need to repay him for what he’s done! If you aren’t comin’, I’m going there alone.”  
> *whirl of alien purple*  
> man with dreadlocks, sighing: “Poor kid…”


	4. Angels & Demons AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: Teen and up  
> Trigger Warnings: Drugs, Death, basically a Murder, none directly concerning the main characters  
> Additional Tags: Angst and Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Demon Jack, Angel Rhys, First Kiss, Recovery  
> Wordcount: 4119

Being a powerful Demon, one of the baddest of them all, has many perks. One of them is being able to get out of the stinkhole called Hell even when not summoned on a busines. Don’t get Jack wrong – Hell is cool (heh), but 99% of its population are the worst of human scum and the rest are assholes.

Being able to roam the Earth is freeing. Most times, Jack is pulled towards bars, casinos, dangerous sports and illegal stuff. But very rarely he wants to try something different. Safe sports, feeding the ducks in the park, a hike in the mountains. Each time, he is reminded that things like that are not for him, but he does it anyway. Even with his power, having everything he ever wishes for, eternity is pretty maddening when the routine is not broken up occasionally.

This time, he feels like having a walk in a forest. He knows that he will get bored in 0.2, but he seeks some anyway. Appearing in a puff of smoke in a large unexplored forest on the side of the planet that is currently hidden in darkness, thinking that an encounter with a bear might make his walk more, heh, _bearable_ , Jack picks a direction and walks. After roughly twenty paces, he runs into an obstacle in the form of a river – _what idiot put it here, in Jack’s path?!_ – so he turns around and heads in the exact opposite direction.

But even on this path, Jack doesn’t have a minute of peace. Not that peace is what he seeks, but he doesn’t necessarily want to run into an Angel on his time off. He is about to do a 90-degree turn and try another direction, hoping that it might finally be a bear, when he notices something off about the atmosphere.

There is an Angel around here, yes, he knows as much just from a whiff of air. But something about it, the undeniable smell Heaven has, is wrong. Wrong in a way that pulls at Jack’s core, and he decides to investigate.

It is surprisingly hard to find the source. Usually, Angels shine brighter than the full moon, that seems to currently be the only source of light in the forest. Jack has to sniff around for a while until he locates the Angel sitting under a beech tree. _Hehe, bitch tree…_

“Well, well, well, look what we’ve got here…” Jack coos. He is about to mock the Angel – he is _always_ ready to do that – because the best explanation is that they are on a mission here to protect some soul that has wandered too deep into the forest. Job like that must suck, and Jack is all for making it even worse. But the Angel cuts him off.

“Go ‘way!” he says in a hoarse voice. “I’m not… Not yet. You can’t take me yet, you _can’t_ …”

 _Take him?_ Jack frowns and steps closer. The Angel is all curled up on himself, but when the Demon crouches, he can look into his face. “I know you!” Jack exclaims, startling the Angel, who glares at him. “You’re the asshat who stole Timothy from me! Rice? Ree-Reese? Rhys!”

The Angel’s glare turns sharper, for a second looking more intimidating than a pout. “I didn’t _steal_ him!” he hisses. “Timothy chose his own path – the _good_ path. You’ve had your chance to corrupt him, but he was too good for you.”

“He would be mine if _you_ didn’t interfere,” Jack hisses back. He worked really hard on that one, and losing him pissed him off. Standing up again, he looks around. “What are you even doing here?” he asks with a scoff. “Saving the squirrels from choosing the wrong path?”

He watches as Rhys gapes at him in disbelief, but then his expression morphs into understanding. “Oh… You didn’t come for me…” he whispers, then breaks off in a short coughing fit.

“For— For _you?_ Why the Hell would I—? Oh…” The Demon looks at the Angel once more, this time really studying his appearance. Rhys is not shining, his white clothes are a little dirty, and his wings… They are losing feathers, which can only mean one thing. “You’re falling,” he notes in a hushed voice.

When Angels fall, they are collected by Demons and brought to Hell, to become one of them. The same goes the other way around – if a Demon grows conscience, they are brought up – (something, something, the Great Plan, celestial balance) – and the power is always even.

“I’m not here to take you to Hell,” Jack clarifies. “Just wanted to take a walk. For some reason I ended up in the same forest as you, ‘s all.”

“Just… taking a walk…” Rhys repeats, a small smirk on his lips even though his situation is pretty miserable.

Jack doesn’t like that tone, and the topic altogether. He can do whatever he fucking wants, and he should probably walk away right now just to demonstrate that. Instead, he sits on the forest floor, opposite to Rhys.

“Why are ya fallin’, anyway?” he asks nonchalantly. “Some bastard broke your heart?”

Again, there is a smirk on Rhys’ face. Jack expects a witty remark. Rhys is not like any other Angel he had ever met before. A little bit sarcastic, a little too fiery for coming from the cold place called Heaven, both things that Jack likes a lot. But instead of any snark, there is a sad tilt to Rhys’ tone as he says: “Something like that, yeah…”

“That sucks.”

Rhys chuckles, but there is not the annoying echo of bells chiming anymore. It makes Angels sound ridiculous and stupid when it’s there, but when it isn’t… Is it normal that Jack feels bad about this? Rhys deserves to sound like a whole orchestra of Christmas bells.

“Hey, you can still… you know, get up there and get fixed, right? You don’t need to fall all the way down. Just focus and… try to fly up?” he suggests. It feels stupid, but just leaving Rhys to wither away feels even worse.

“Do you think I didn’t try?” Rhys asks incredulously. “I can’t anymore. I don’t have enough feathers left.”

“Bullshit,” Jack brushes him off. Rhys twitches at the _bad word_ , assuring him that he is still an Angel on the inside, far from a Demon. “You just need to try harder. I’m sure there is a mountain somewhere nearby, because that would be _very convenient_ ,” he raises his voice, pretty sure that He can hear them. “We’ll climb up, and then you’ll fly like it’s nothing. Come on, up!”

The Angel doesn’t move, simply staring at him. “Why should I trust you? Why would _you_ help?” he asks, pulling his knees closer to his body.

Jack doesn’t want to think about that. “Because you falling would mean Hell losing one Demon, and I like my colleagues too much to allow that.”

“You hate them all,” Rhys points out with an unimpressed expression. “You can’t lie to me.”

“I can do whatever I fucking want,” Jack snaps, sending a shiver through the Angel’s body as his own goes up in flames for a second. When the fire and smoke dissipate and Jack calms down, he pinches the bridge of his nose. “Look, let’s just go and give it a try. Leave the sarcasm to me, and you do… what Angels do. Make flowers bloom and birds sing.”

As if on cue, the birds around them wake up and start singing. It becomes annoying in less than ten seconds, and all the while, Rhys holds Jack’s gaze, raised eyebrows letting him knows that he knows exactly what he is doing.

“I hate you,” the Demon groans.

“No, you don’t,” Rhys retorts. He finally gets up, looking up to Jack for guidance. “Where is the mountain?” he asks.

“I have absolutely no idea,” the Demon answers. Rhys shakes his head, huffing, but Jack is not finished. “Look up,” he says and does so himself. Rhys follows his example.

Nothing happens for a while, and just as he is beginning to think that it won’t work, a shooting star crosses the night sky. “There!” Jack exclaims victoriously. “This way!” he heads in the direction of the star.

“Wait, but how do we know it’s that way?” Rhys asks, stumbling to follow him.

“Your boss sent it, trust me. You not falling is obviously a part of his Plan.” Jack’s lips form a sneer, but he sees Rhys’ eyes grow wide and mouth fall open.

“It’s a miracle!” he whispers.

Jack rolls his eyes so much his head hurts even though he can’t feel pain. He just does.

An hour later, they arrive to a large hill. It is not exactly a mountain, but it will do. Jack strides up the steep path easily, but Rhys stays behind. He seems to have trouble putting one foot in front of the other, and his breathing is laboured.

“Come on, Pumpkin!” the Demon calls. “You can do it. Even a toddler can do it! Just move your legs like this,” he demonstrates it, “and then you’ll be up on the mountain in no time.”

“It’s useless, Jack,” the Angel shakes his head. “I’ll never make it all the way up. I’m already exhausted.”

Jack rolls his eyes for the billionth time since they took off. “You’re a celestial being, quit this bullshit! Just walk!”

“You walk!” Rhys scoffs.

“I am walking, idiot,” Jack groans. “But you’re _not_ , and that’s why we’re having this conversation. Move your pretty ass, you useless slug!”

“Did you just compliment me and insult me in one sentence?” Rhys stares at him, incredulous.

“I’m multitasking, Cupcake,” Jack explains smugly, walking backwards while looking at the Angel to drive the point. “There are more sinners than good people, so we in Hell have to be able to do more things at the same time.”

“Unbelievable,” Rhys chuckles and forces his legs to move again.

It is almost morning when they reach the top of the hill. Rhys’ clothes are tattered, completely covered in dirt, and there are twigs and dry grass in his hair and wings. He looks terrible, worn down and tired. All of his supernatural gleam and strength is gone.

“You made it!” Jack pats Rhys on the back, almost sending him to the ground. “Oops, sorry ‘bout that.”

Rhys doesn’t say anything, still wheezing. Jack catches him looking longingly at the rapidly brightening sky, and it feels inappropriate to say anything else, even as the Angel stretches his wings, a few feathers falling off with the movement.

Nothing happens. Rhys can’t fly up, he is too weak, and somewhere deep inside, Jack knew that already, but he can’t stop himself from feeling a little disappointed and a little bit sad. When Rhys lets his wings fold again, shoulders drooping and gaze falling to the ground, Jack feels an unexplainable stab of pain in his chest.

“So, this is it,” the Angel says wryly. “I’m… I’m doomed.”

“You’re just tired,” the Demon argues in a hushed voice. “You should get some rest and try again. There is a cave—”

“And what’s the _point_?!” Rhys snaps. “Just take me to Hell now, show me around, and I can start mur-murdering new-borns and d-drinking blood of-of puppies! Oh my, that sounds so bad!” he breaks down, shivering. “I don’t wanna do that...”

“I can’t take you to Hell yet,” Jack says, trying for a soothing tone. “I can feel it, you’re still too good. Let’s just get you a place to sleep,” he takes the Angel’s hand, finding it incredibly cold, “and make fire, so you can warm up.”

“O-okay,” Rhys nods his head, letting Jack lead him to a rock formation that can maybe be called a cave. There are holes in both the walls and the ceiling, but it might be able to hold some warmth. Jack makes Rhys sit in the middle while he produces wood and makes fire, then takes off his jacket and puts it on the rocky cave floor so the Angel has something comfortable to sit on.

Rhys’ eyes are already falling closed when he lays down on the jacket, the warmth of the fire doing nothing against the paleness of his cheeks. They are sunken, as if he had lost twenty pounds on the way up there. And even though he is so close to the campfire, he is shivering cold.

“I’m only Demon, after all,” Jack mumbles to himself as he goes to lie down behind Rhys. He can’t and won’t resist the temptation laid out in front of him. Rhys had always been special to him, even though they met only a few times, and the last time was on bad terms. He doesn’t wasn’t this particular Angel to fall.

Jack must have dozed off, because when he wakes up, Rhys is laying on his other side, facing Jack. And he is awake, but not pulling away from the Demon. In fact, he had wrapped his arms around Jack and now they are _cuddling_. There is no other word for it. They are cuddling, and Rhys has his nose pressed into Jack’s neck, inhaling deeply every so often.

The Demon pulls away slightly, just enough to look the Angel in the eyes. No words are said, but there is a sort of understanding between them. Rhys nods, and Jack’s lips descend upon his.

It feels _heavenly_. They both moan, their bodies beginning to move, a sinful dance of hips, hands, lips. Jack searches, hand moving over Rhys’ body slowly, because _surely_ there is an opening in his tunic; that would be very _convenient_ — aha! His hand comes across a fold, and when he slips under it, he finally touches the Angel’s skin.

The Demon’s whole body goes rigid. He clenches his jaw to hold a desperate, pleasured sound inside. How can Rhys be an Angel when his skin is so sinfully soft? Jack wants to feel it all, everywhere, wants to hold Rhys down and—

“Jack, stop please!”

All movement stills as Jack clenches his jaw and does everything to keep himself from continuing his advances. Slowly, so slowly, he withdraws his hand from Rhys’ tunic, feeling his smooth skin for the last time.

“I’m sorry, I... I can’t do this, I don’t want to, I’m scared, I— This is not me, Jack…” Rhys sounds apologetic, and his eyes are pleading for Jack’s forgiveness.

“Not, it is not,” the Demon agrees. “You’re an _Angel_ ,” he reminds with disdain.

The Angel falls silent, his shoulders slouching and eyes filling with tears. “I’m sorry,” he repeats.

With a long sigh, Jack shakes his head, arms wrapping around the smaller man once more, innocently, protectively. “Don’t be sorry, Pumpkin,” he says, kissing Rhys’ forehead. “You belong to Heaven. It’s not my place to tempt you, as much as I’d love to.”

The cave fills with silence, the fire long burned out. “You should get some more rest, Rhysie. “I’ll stand guard,” Jack promises and gets up. He produces more wood and makes a bigger fire than before, then stands by the exit of the cave until Rhys curls up in a ball and falls asleep. Then, he summons one of the lesser Demons who serve him and orders him to protect the cave and the one inside while he takes care of some business.

It takes too much work – asking around, tracking and finally catching up with the Demon who has doubts – but an hour later, Jack is standing in the shadow in a filthy motel room. There are two other people with him – a Demon called Athena and a human female who is asleep and having nightmares.

The woman is a junkie. It is obvious on her starved body, as well as the long list of sins under her name. She steals regularly to get a dose, including stealing from her childhood friend, a single mother. The last two doses she has are in this room, one on the nightstand and another one in her backpack.

The purple-haired Demon hesitates, one hand in the bag, eyes fixed on the sleeping woman. Time keeps moving, and the human will wake up soon, but the Demon doesn’t do what she was sent to do here.

In the end, she stands up, content to watch the woman. That is when Jack knows he has the right Demon and that he must interfere. Soon, Athena will be more good than bad, and then Rhys will fall, because of stupid universe rules. And the best thing is that even if Jack helps Rhys, another Angel will fall instead of him, and the guilt will cause Rhys to lose faith again, and then Hell will lose yet another Demon… Better stop this trainwreck right now.

“Look who’s showing doubts – the fearless warrior who I’ve seen murder a whole town singlehandedly, now unable to help one human out…” He doesn’t bother to keep his voice low, instead stopping the time not to wake the woman up, as Athena should have done in the beginning. “This is not you, _Demon_ ,” he hisses. “Get the job done and move on _now_!”

In a whirl of purple and red, Athena stands in front of him, eyes furious. “But the dose will _kill_ her!” she yells in his face. “Tempting her is one thing, but this is a death sentence! She is addicted, almost delirious, and if she sees two doses, she’ll take them both – that’s why she put one aside! We don’t have the right to do this, she did everything she could to protect herself!”

“She didn’t stop taking, and she stole from anyone who didn’t run far away from her!” Jack shouts louder than her, using his height to tower over her. “How can you be so worried for one pathetic little worm who doesn’t think about anybody but herself? You’ll do to her what she did to her friends and family – betray her when she least expects it. And you will enjoy doing this because you know that she deserves it _. Do it now!_ ”

The other Demon remains defiant, crossing her arms on her chest. “You can do it,” she says.

“Oh ho, no I can’t, and you know that,” Jack chuckles. “But know what I can do? I can tell you what will happen if you don’t do this. This pathetic junkie you care for? She’ll take the dose when she wakes up and another one in the morning. She’ll sneak into any room that is open, steal anything she can and run. One of the people who are staying here is a diabetic. The needles and ampules will be tempting for your little friend; wonder how this will end…”

A flicker of doubt in her cause appears in Athena’s eyes as she gazes at the sleeping woman. But Jack is not done. “The man will survive, by a miracle, but the ambulance reaching him in time will mean an ambulance not reaching a drowning kid before it is too late. How do you think this woman would react if she knew what we know?”

“She would…” Athena hesitates, looking at the woman, then at Jack, then the woman again. She huffs, flexes her arms, and when she turns back to Jack, she looks a little more devilish than a few minutes ago. “She wouldn’t care. She would do it again, even to her own children.” Resolutely, she strides to the bag and takes out the other dose of drugs, putting it on the nightstand right next to the first one.

The time unfreezes and two Demons hidden in the shadows watch as the blonde woman wakes up from her nightmare, hands already searching for the drugs. When she comes up with the double dose, she only hesitates for a second, and then takes them both. Athena doesn’t even flinch when the woman’s heart suddenly stops, and Jack grins wide.

The Demon is still in a good mood when he returns to the cave. He releases Wilhelm and walks inside, finding Rhys sitting close to the dying out fire. The sun is just falling, filling the cave with orange glow. Rhys looks amazing with the halo around him, the light putting some colour back into his pale face.

“Heya, Cupcake!” Jack grins at him, and Rhys returns it with a weak smile of his.

“Hey! Where have you been?” There is no blaming in his voice, just genuine, innocent curiosity. He probably wouldn’t even dream of reminding Jack that he promised to protect him and then disappeared.

“Oh, you know, telling the Great One to change his stupid plan and kindly let you back _up_ , usual stuff. We brofisted,” he shrugs, and then winks at the Angel.

“Alright then,” Rhys chuckles, “keep your secrets.”

“How do you feel?” Jack asks, sitting next to Rhys. He still looks pretty bad.

“Better, I think? But not good enough.” The Angel’s voice is sad. “My wings feel heavy and I feel dirty, and I already prayed for forgiveness three hundred and fifty times… I don’t think that will work.”

“Hmm,” Jack hums, studying the Angel. “Well, your wings are full of trash. Lemme pick it out, and then they’ll be light as… a feather, huh.”

Snorting, Rhys shakes his head but turns his back to Jack. In the dim gold light, the Demon starts picking all the twigs, leaves and dirt out of the feathers that are left on Rhys’ wings. There are patches of naked skin, and a lot of feathers comes loose even with Jack’s careful ministrations.

“All clean,” he declares after ten minutes. Rhys looks like he could fall asleep any second, eyes falling shut and head inching to the side. “Was it that good?” Jack asks with a chuckle, shaking the Angel’s shoulder lightly.

“Uhm, what? Yeah, uhm, I mean, yes. It felt amazing. I didn’t know my wings are so sensitive. No-one ever touches them…” he trails off, seemingly lost in thought.

“Well, obviously,” Jack snorts. “You Angels only ever care about the others, forgetting to let someone care for you once in a while. You’re lucky you have me to show you all the good stuff.” Even in the darkness, Rhys’ blush is more than obvious when he looks over his shoulder at the Demon. In a low voice, Jack adds: “I can always show you some more…”

“No, thank you,” Rhys declines with a cheeky wink. Then he turns serious. “I think I should try to fly again. I feel… more confident now.”

“Let’s try it, then!” Jack stands up abruptly, ignoring the sting in his chest. “Can’t wait till I’m done babysitting you,” he adds to drive the point further and the stinging feeling away. It doesn’t work.

“Oh, you love it!” Rhys retorts, sounding his usual self. His eyes seem to shine in the dark.

They walk out of the cave, standing at the top of the hill again, side by side. But Rhys doesn’t stretch his wings yet, gazing longingly at the sky but staying with Jack. In the cold breeze that the night brings, their hands brush against each other, their fingers entwining on their own accord.

“Thank you,” Rhys whispers, like it was a secret.

“Don’t fret it,” Jack dismisses. “Next time we’re both sent to the same mortal, you’ll just leave it to me, and then we’re even.”

“You know I won’t,” Rhys says with a laugh. With the breeze and the other sounds of nature, Jack cannot be sure, but he feels like he hears bells ringing somewhere close.

“Well, then I guess I can accept—” The Demon doesn’t get to finish his line as soft, gentle lips press against his. He kisses back, but Rhys pulls away soon.

“Thank you,” he repeats himself, this time definitely shining in the darkness. “See you around, Jack,” he says as he stretches his wings and flops them once. There is a brief flash of blinding light, and suddenly, Rhys looks as new. His clothes are clean, his wings full of feathers and healthy, and his halo shining almost as bright as the light around them. He smiles at Jack, and then he is gone, _up there_.

“Not gonna lie, that was impressive,” Jack hums to himself. He can still feel Rhys’ lips on his own, and he runs his tongue over them to chase the feeling. He already can’t wait until him and Rhys meet again. And who knows, maybe Jack will get himself a pair of wings too? They are cool, and sin gets boring after a couple hundred years anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How this would end if I wrote the whole story: In a couple thousand years, Jack would become an Angel, and him and Rhys would bring good side by side. :3


	5. Post-Apocalypse AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: Explicit  
> Trigger Warnings: Mpreg Mentions, Off-screen Minor character Deaths, Vague Implications of Non-Con Situations, Age Difference  
> Additional Tags: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Angst, Some Humour, First Kiss, Smut, Dirty Talk, Virginity, Mentions of Mpreg, (tiny) Breeding Kink  
> Wordcount: 7019
> 
>  ~~I made this intentionally a little darker. It is a post-apo world, so it feels appropriate.~~ I wrote this note when the story was 2k words long, but it doesn't feel that dar anymore. I mean sure, Rhys is going through tough shit, but he gets a fuck and some humour in the later parts!
> 
> I got a “little” carried away with the wordcount going up rapidly, and when it gets to the barn part, well… I got fascinated by the opportunity to bring forth the fact that Rhys doesn’t know many basic things of the world before the plague, and he doesn’t know the words that aren’t used anymore, so… Yeah, got carried away, made it bigger, maybe deeper.

After the Plague killed off most of the population, and nature took over the bare-of-soul world, humanity fought to prevail in the safest way possible – together. Survivors built small villages, surrounded by high walls. They grew crops and re-tamed animals. They helped each another.

Of course, there were conflicts. Clans were formed and clan wars fought, because even after the end of the world, humans were still power hungry scum.

But the young man called Rhys only knew this in theory, from tales and legends. He grew up in a small settlement, safe and protected from the first second of his life. As he reached a particular age, he was taught how to care for crops. All Beta and Alpha males, as well as Alpha females, were supposed to go hunting, but his parents were the best hunters in the village, and they put their foot down. Rhys was always so tiny, not to mention that he was born without his right arm – he wouldn’t survive a single hour outside of the secured areas, so he was allowed to do the easier jobs.

Then his world turned upside down. It is not like he was comfortable before – life might have been comfortable before the Plague, or so the stories about great cities and endless sources of electricity, warmth and food made him believe – but it was very, very bad right now. It went down so fast Rhys didn’t even have the time to fully process it yet, so he just sat there in silence, vaguely aware that more bad things are coming his way but unable to even try and stop them.

Maybe it was fate. Rhys avoided his fate long enough, but now it caught up with him. Maybe he shouldn’t have lied, and then this wouldn’t happen. Maybe it would, and things would have been even worse.

Rhys always knew that he would present as an Omega. Nobody else did, and it was unusual to just _know_ , but he _knew_. Maybe his parents knew too, and that is why they insisted on him not being sent in the dangerous zone, but they never talked to him about it. He presented late, and instead of telling anyone, he washed his sheets early in the morning in the creek whenever he woke up wet and borrowed his father’s used shirts to put over his own clothes to hide his scent.

One of these sweat-dirty shirts was draped over his shoulders even now, but the scent didn’t bring him the comfort it usually did. It only made him miss his parents more.

Rhys’ parents were the best hunters in the village. They weren’t killed by a beast mightier than them, or by unknown terrain they dared. They died in a car accident, caused by old, worn-down tires of their light runner. The village didn’t learn until three days later, as the hunting group returned much smaller than it was upon taking off, with little to no prey, and grim news.

It wasn’t clear whether Rhys was being treated like an orphan child or an adult. He didn’t get to say anything on the matter, like a child, but if he were a child, they would give him a chance. Children were very rare, many survivors of the Plague being infertile or close to that. Omegas were treated like treasure for their high fertility, much more valued than Betas or Alphas, and he knew that if he told them that he is an Omega, and not just a Beta with an Alpha’s shirt, they wouldn’t throw him out, but he kept his mouth shut. Either he was too deep in his head grieving, or too scared of what would happen to him without his father’s protection.

The whole village was there, gathered around a campfire to make a decision about Rhys’ future. Some of the looks he was receiving were sympathetic – to many, he was still a child they looked after when his parents were gone hunting, and he just lost his parents. But most people looked at him with disdain, seeing a weak, useless man in him. Even working in the fields, Rhys was never able to get enough work done. His body wasn’t built for that.

The elders of the village spoke at lengths about the necessity of this sacrifice. They listed every single bad thing about Rhys. They made up more bad things. The young man didn’t stand up for himself, and nor did any of the attendees.

As the sun finally fully set and the world was swallowed by darkness, only the things in the proximity of the campfire remaining clear and visible, the decision was finally made. Rhys would have to go. In that moment, he couldn’t bring himself to care. He got up when he was told to get up, packed some things into a small satchel and then wrapped himself in his father’s shirt fully. One of his parents’ friends, a hunter almost as strong as Rhys’ father, put a sack over his head and bound his arm to his body with a rope. It was a little humiliating, bringing attention to his missing arm, but at least it wasn’t too tight.

The car ride was silent and stretched on forever. Rhys might have fallen asleep, but only shortly. He still didn’t fully grasp his whole situation. It felt surreal. One day ago, he was fine, safe, he thought he belonged. Today, he was a stranger to all the people in the settlement. He grew up there, and they kicked him out.

The sun was rising when the car finally stopped. The hunter took the sack off Rhys’ head and then reached for the rope. He hesitated, looked at the young man again. Rhys would like to later say that he was filled with cold dread, but he couldn’t really bring himself to care. The rope was left in place and he was told to get out, so he did. The car drove away, his backpack thrown to his feet.

That was when the reality finally hit Rhys. He looked around and didn’t recognise the place at all. The houses here were made of concrete, bricks and iron. This had to be a town before the Plague, now abandoned. Hopefully, it was abandoned.

His breathing quickened as he walked in small circles, unable to decide what to do. Run after the car, try to follow the tracks left on the road, or search the houses for something sharp to cut the rope. Or sit down and wait for something to eat him, because it will happen anyway. He felt desperate, much more than he felt when the hunting group returned. He felt as good as dead, and so he sat down in the middle of the road and cried silently.

The sun crawled its path up lazily, first making the world orange, then yellow, then too bright and too hot. Now Rhys regretted putting the shirt on and buttoning it up. On the other hand, he still wasn’t sure whether being found out as an Omega would be better than dying.

To add to his lack of luck, no beast came to eat him yet, even though he was such an easy prey. Hours into the day, and Rhys still didn’t move, even though he was out of tears and his whole body ached. He had simply lost all hope.

As the sun reached the highest point of its journey, mercifully hiding behind some clouds and covering the Omega in shadow, he finally heard a roar. It was not the bestial kind, however, but engines. Of a technical.

Many things swept through Rhys’ mind. That the villagers changed their mind. There was the sign over the gates, after all, that said _United We Stand, Divided We Fall_. Maybe they chose not to abandon him. But the car was coming from the other direction than the one he came from.

A small part of Rhys that he silenced soon thought that maybe his parents didn’t die, and they were coming for him. But this wasn’t a car used for hunting.

Still sat in the middle of the road, Rhys waited. Soon enough, a beaten technical came into view. It used to be black, but with all the scratches, corrosion and dirt, it had lost its shine. There is only the driver in the car, as far as Rhys can tell. Their eyes meet, even over the distance still between them, and the car slows down until it finally comes to a stop right in front of the Omega.

Rhys finally realises that maybe he should be running or trying to hide, that strange men, especially loners, are as dangerous to him as the ones in the village. When the man steps out of the car, a frown on his face, Rhys breaks into a run.

Only to freeze when he hears a gunshot.

“Don’t move, sonova bitch!” the man behind him shouts. The dirt on the road crunches under his feet loudly as he marches towards Rhys until he stops so close that the Omega can smell his scent. An Alpha. “Who the fuck are you?” the man asks, sounding more confused than angry. “Nobody should be here, especially not a tied up kid. Is there a story going with this accessory of yours?”

Strong hands manhandle Rhys until he is facing the man, one hand coming to hold his chin in place while the other one goes to the rope, deftly untying the knot. “Speak,” he orders when Rhys keeps silent for too long. “Or I might just change my mind and leave you here as a skag bait.”

Rhys swallows, only now realising how dry his throat is. He tries again a couple times until he feels like he can speak. Still, his voice is weak and cracking. “I was banished from my village after my parents died and I lost their protection. I don’t know what to do…” He is sure that if his voice wasn’t so roughed up by thirst, he would whine at the end of the last sentence. It is probably good that he doesn’t.

The Alpha considers him for a long while, slowly coiling the rope and returning it to Rhys. The Omega stares at it, not sure whether the action was automatic, or maybe mocking. When the man speaks, it startles him, making the Alpha chuckle. “That’s not my problem, kiddo. Surely you heard about loners. Forget all the good things you might’ve heard,” there are none, “I’m not helping you out. I’m not even giving you a ride. Now get out of my way.”

Naturally, Rhys got angry, and irrationally, he let the emotion to take control over his next actions. As the Alpha shoved him to the side, he stepped into his path again, folding his arm over his chest and frowning. The man growls at him, although his expression is almost amused, and shoves him again. Rhys stumbles and falls but gets up before the man reaches the car and catches up with him, blocking his path again by standing between him and the car.

The man raises his eyebrows at him, and Rhys knows that this is his chance to say something. He didn’t think it through that far, though. “Please,” he says. Immediately, he is made to feel stupid, because the other man rolls his eyes exaggeratedly and moves to shove him aside. Rhys shoves him first. His one arm and laughable strength don’t even begin to move the Alpha, but he frowns at the offence anyway.

“Put your dirty hand away,” he growls, grasping Rhys’ wrist in a death grip and tugging it away from his chest. But maybe it was worth it, because Rhys is pretty sure that what he felt under the stranger’s shirt were bandages.

“I can help you if you’re hurt,” he blurts out, fighting down a squeal at the pain spreading from his wrist. “I can plant crops and cook and mend wounds; that’s all I was allowed to do, bud I can do more, I learn fast, _please_!” The last word gets a high note as he finally cannot hold a pitiful sound in anymore.

“The answer is no,” the Alpha growls and finally lets go of his hand. “And the wound is already healed enough.”

Despite himself, Rhys keeps giving to his impulses. “Then why did you even bother untying me?! You should have just left me to die!” he shouts. And he spits in the stranger’s face.

Grave mistake, he realises. In a blink of an eye, his body is pushed against the hood of the car, a sharp hiss escaping his mouth at being manhandled, the impact and the heat that aggravates his skin even through layers of clothes. In the next instant, the stranger’s body is pressed against his, rough and hot lips pressed against Rhys’ ear.

“I can tie you up again and leave you here if you really want,” he says darkly. “Or you can thank me for the help by moving your ass out of my way.”

Rhys whimpers. The Alpha’s scent is now all around him, easily overriding anything else. It doesn’t have the calming effect the familiar scents of his parents had on him, quite the opposite. His instincts tell him that he is in danger, that he should run and if that is not a possibility than tilt his head to the side and submit. But Rhys had trained himself in ignoring those instincts, trying to be more like his father, so he struggles under the weight and growls. “Let go of me!” With his only arm twisted behind his back painfully, he doesn’t have much leverage, but even thirsty, hungry and exhausted, he fights.

That is until the stranger sniffs loudly close to his ear. Rhys doesn’t even have the time to panic before the hold on him is completely released and the stranger steps back. “You’re an Omega?” he asks, his voice a mix of confusion and incredulity.

For some stupid reason, Rhys doesn’t take the opportunity to bolt. He stands up on shaky legs and slowly turns around, facing the stranger. When there continues to be silence, he shrugs and nods, fighting an inner battle and not caring about the one the stranger fights with himself. Because the reality is that being owned and used by one Alpha is better than being owned and used by the whole village, like the Omegas were where he grew up, so he doesn’t have a reason to care.

“But how…” the stranger continues to mutter. “But… You don’t even look like an Omega… You’re supposed to be docile and never argue… How did you…”

Feeling spiteful, Rhys mutters: “Make me.” He is not gonna bow his head just because nature and some knothead Alpha want him to.

“Watch your tongue,” the Alpha hisses, and Rhys supresses a shiver just to spite him more.

“Why did your village throw out an Omega? They didn’t know? Yeah, that must be it.” Rhys notices that the stranger talks a lot and likes to answer his own question, and he would tell him just so if the Alpha didn’t step closer again. “But you must be either incredibly brave, or fucking stupid. Do you know what strange Alphas do to unbonded Omegas? And you throw yourself at me like that…”

Rhys is invaded by the scent again, and it’s unfair how much of an effect it has on him and how it changes. At first, there was only the warning in it, instincts telling him that he is in a dangerous company, but the more they talk, the more familiar the Alpha feels. His scent becomes the slightest bit calming. Any maybe Rhys wants that to happen.

“Cat’s got your tongue?” the Alpha asks tauntingly. “Oh, but you probably don’t know what a cat is, right? You were born after the world went to shit.” He snorts and shakes his head as if chasing away the amusing thought. “Today really isn’t your lucky day, kiddo.”

Rhys’ head droops, shoulders sagging. “No need to rub it in my face,” he mumbles. “Just help me out and then I’ll leave you alone.”

“Just—” the stranger scoffs incredulously, staring down at him in disbelief. “You’re in no position to make demands. Omegas are meant to be spineless and—”

“Make me,” Rhys repeats himself. “You’ve done so much talking already, but you haven’t acted up on a single threat. Do you know what I think, honestly?” he asks, folding his arm on his chest. “I know that before the Plague the dynamic was different. I don’t think you are the knothead you’re pretending to be. You would never hurt an Omega.”

And he is right. It is obvious in the way the stranger tenses up, holds back even though he is obviously angry enough to strangle the life out of the Omega. His jaw clenches, body shaking, but he doesn’t deny anything.

In a soft voice, unsure whether he finally won, or this peace is just as fragile as an Alpha’s patience, Rhys repeats his demand: “Just help me out. I’ll leave you alone as soon as I can.”

The Alpha closes his eyes, letting out a sound that is half a sigh and half an agitated growl. “Fine, you little shit,” he finally says. “Get in the car and keep your mouth shut. And take the damn shirt off; I don’t need to get any angrier.”

An excited thanks is already on its way out of Rhys’ mouth, but he halts it at the last second. He frowns but complies, taking off his father’s shirt and stuffing it into his backpack. The Alpha waits for him with crossed arms and a scoff on his face, and when Rhys is ready to move, he helps him get in the passenger seat.

Once the older man gets in the car, he fishes out a water bottle from under his seat and gives it to Rhys after taking a swig. The Omega had all but forgot about the thirst and exhaustion he felt until then, and he starts gulping the water earnestly until the Alpha’s hand closes around his wrist and pulls his hand away from his face.

“Not all of it, idiot!” he yells at him. “You can’t drink so much water at once or—”

“I know!” Rhys interrupts, huffing, lip pushing out into a pout. “I know that it could kill me. But it’s hard to stop when you finally get water!”

The stranger decides to take the temptation away from him, closing the bottle and putting it back under his car seat. “You’ll get more later,” he says gruffly. “And don’t interrupt me ever again. I told you to keep your mouth shut.”

Rhys grumbles under his breath but decides not to anger the Alpha further, especially now that he finally started the car and is driving off. Usually, staying quiet would be near impossible for Rhys, but exhaustion soon drives his eyes shut, his muscles slack, and he falls asleep within a few minutes of sitting in the car. The Alpha’s scent around him is no longer threatening, the fragile and short-lived peace between them enough to calm him.

But the sleep doesn’t last long. What feels like only seconds later, Rhys is woken up by a hand on his shoulder. He startles but quickly remembers where he is, and then he stares at a hand with a bottle of water in front of his face dazedly, blinking and trying to figure out what he is supposed to do.

“C’mon, idiot, drink up,” the older man sighs and nudges the bottle to his lip. Rhys takes it from his hand carefully and drinks, slowly this time and only about a third of the bottle. His head is constantly spinning and he is a little sick, and it doesn’t take a genius to realize that he’d been in the sun for too long and is in for a fun couple of hours of sunstroke, at best.

“Thanks,” Rhys mumbles as he watches the Alpha close the bottle again. “My name is Rhys, by the way,” he says when the car starts moving again.

The other man tenses up, teeth gritting audibly, and Rhys wouldn’t be surprised if he decided to just not tell him his name, just to keep the air of a _mysterious stranger wandering the soulless lands_ around himself. But in the end, he relents. “Name’s Jack,” he grumbles.

“Thanks, Jack,” Rhys says, already half asleep again. He hears a sharp inhale from the Alpha’s direction but his mind is too hazy to spend too much time thinking about it.

When Rhys next wakes up, the sun is already setting, and Jack is impatiently telling him to get up. He is already out of the car, standing by Rhys’ side, his foot bouncing on the dirty ground, making a small cloud of dust raise up.

Rubbing his eyes, Rhys steps out of the car and takes his backpack. He looks around in the dimming light, but he doesn’t get to take the full view in before Jack snatches the bag away from him and uses his hand to tug him along, walking quickly away.

There are buildings around them, one of them labelled _Handsome Jack’s ~~Happy~~ Very Deadly Farm_, the words _Handsome Jack_ and _Very Deadly_ being obviously added long after the other ones. Rhys snorts at the childishness of it and continues to look around. He thinks he can hear some movement from one of the buildings, and it unnerves him a little as well as excites him. Maybe Jack isn’t a loner and this is a small settlement! Then Rhys might be allowed to stay if he proves himself worthy!

His hopes are crushed, however, when he focuses on the sounds. Loud bangs of something heavy against the wooden wall, animalistic cries and whines. That is… not good. Really bad. So bad.

“Why did you—?” Jack turns around and stares down at Rhys in agitation when the Omega stops following him, hand slipping out of his. He finds that the younger man is staring at the wooden structure in fear, frozen to the spot. “Oh, for fuck’s sake!” the Alpha groans. “Have you never heard a cow?! What, do you think I keep little bratty Omegas in there and torture them?!”

“N-no,” Rhys manages to say. “I-I don’t know, I’ve never seen an animal that was alive and not stripped of skin and cooked. Maybe some rakks, but even those were usually hunted down. A-are you saying that some beasts g-got into your house?”

Jack stares at him for five long seconds, as if he thought Rhys is pulling his leg, and then he rolls his eyes. “Jeeze, what kind of shithole did you grow up in?” he mutters and grabs him by the wrist again, pulling him in the direction of the house.

“Wa-wait, wait!” Rhys gasps and squeals, something he would deny later, trying to stop the Alpha from throwing him in with the beasts, but the older man has no problem dragging him there and opening the huge door leading into the building. The noises grow much louder.

It is mostly dark inside, save for one oil lamp hanging by the door and burning with a weak flame. Jack takes it in the hand that is not holding the trembling Omega and gives it a little shake, grumbling when the flame goes out completely, darkness swallowing them.

“Fuck, why now, why today, why do I have such a shitty day? I hate Mondays,” he swears and continues to mumble under his breath. “Wait right _here_ ,” he says sternly to Rhys. “Unless you want to run outside and say hi to the real _beasts_ ,” he mocks. He gives his hand a final warning squeeze and then heads blindly into the darkness in the building.

Rhys stays rooted in place, partly because of the threat of _real beasts_ and partly because he just can’t move. He hears the creatures moving in the darkness and crying weird sounds that he had never heard before. Trying to distract himself from the fear, he tries to focus on whatever Jack is doing, but all he can hear is some shuffling and a lot of swearing. Rhys had never heard half of those words. Jack gets very creative when it comes to cursing things in his vicinity.

Finally, there is light again, much stronger than the dying flame. Jack is holding the lamp up and walking back through the house towards Rhys. It is a strange house, very spacey and open, almost like a warehouse but not quite. The light reveals wooden fences and a lot of hay, and some strange objects scattered on the floor, hanged on the walls or placed randomly on the desks in the back of the room.

“Come have a look,” Jack encourages him, letting him walk on his own. Rhys hesitantly follows him to one of the fences and peeks over it. There is a large animal laying in the hay, looking at them. It has horns and one of its ears looks like a skag chewed on it, scarred and torn. “This is Henriette,” Jack speaks, the beast’s huge head turning to follow his voice. “Henriette, this is Rhys, and he’s never seen a cow in his life before. Make a good impression, you old hag.”

 _Oh_ , Rhys had heard about cows, even saw some simplified pictures. He had never imagined them looking like this. That thing was _huge_ and, oh, but that was when it was laying down. But it stood up.

Rhys backed away but after a few steps, Jack’s hand fisted the front of his shirt and he was pulled forward again. Meanwhile, the _cow_ stood up fully and walked over to the fence, sticking its head over it and invading their space. Jack rewarded it by patting its head affectionately while Rhys squeaked in fear.

The Alpha burst out laughing. “See this, Queen Henriette? Rhysie is afraid of you. Why don’t you show him that you don’t bite, hm? C’mon, Pumpkin,” he turns to Rhys. “Go on and pet her, she likes it.”

The Omega gapes at him. Jack can’t be serious. Sure, _Henriette_ doesn’t bite Jack, but it doesn’t recognise Rhys, and its mouth is big enough to bite his remaining arm off. Or at least the hand.

“Oh come on,” Jack groans, slowly losing patience. Rhys doesn’t even dare to hope that he will give up when that happens. The Alpha will probably just take his hand and force him to do it. To avoid that fate, Rhys sucks in a deep breath and brings his shaky hand up, carefully placing it next to Jack’s on the _cow’s_ forehead.

The animal doesn’t seem to mind it at all, and after a while, it gets bored and goes back to laying down. “Ooh, don’t be like that, baby,” Jack calls after her. “You’ll get your dinner, just let me take care of this idiot first.”

They finally walk away from the fence, Rhys faster than Jack. That the animal didn’t kill him now, but doesn’t mean it won’t change its mind once dinner time comes.

Unfortunately, it seems that Jack wants him to help with dinner. While he brings heaps of hay to the different animals, he tells Rhys to bring him a bucket. Knowing that he should help as best as he can, Rhys tries to find a bucket, but in the mess of things all around him there seems to be none. He comes back to Jack without it, scratching the back of his head.

“Great, now bring it— Wait, you didn’t find it?” the Alpha frowns at him and then rolls his eyes.

“Look, there is a lot of mess! How was I supposed to find it in the darkness?” the Omega defends himself.

“It’s right under the table in the back of the barn,” Jack tells him. “Can’t miss it. A huge old table. Engraved. And there is a bucket under it. Well-kept.”

Rhys grumbles under his breath but goes to check the table again. He’d walked around it twice already, and even this time, he doesn’t see any bucket. He is about to say so when he hears Jack calling at him: “Oh, and there might be a white cloth draped over it!”

Knowing this, Rhys locates the bucket in the clutter quickly and returns to Jack, throwing an accusing glance at him which the Alpha repays with a charming smile. “Thanks, Pumpkin! Now bring it to Josie’s pen. I’ll be there in a minute.”

“Who is Josie?” Rhys asks incredulously. He doesn’t point out that besides not knowing the animals’ names, he also only has a vague idea what a _barn_ or a _pen_ are supposed to be.

“Who— Oh, right, over here,” he points to one of the fences where a black _cow_ is munching on hay.

With a sigh, Rhys walks as close as he dares and waits, not making any sound as to not attract the animal’s attention. Soon, Jack joins him, somehow acquiring a three legged stool and a wet cloth. He opens the gate and walks in, chuckling at the way Rhys tries to sneakily take a few steps away from it. “Hand me the bucket, will ya?” the Alpha asks when he sits next to the animal.

Cows were kept for the purpose of getting milk, Rhys remembers reading somewhere. The idea is a little off-putting, but his curiosity wins and he walks inside, giving Jack the bucket and watching as he washes the weird pink thingies hanging from the bottom of the cow. Then he starts _milking_ it, as he explains to Rhys. It looks disgusting.

When it’s done, Jack takes the bucket and the stool, urging Rhys out. The Omega helps him by carrying the oil lamp back to where they took it and then they finally leave the stupid scary _barn_.

“Okay, you hungry? I sure as hell am,” Jack says, heading to another house with the bucket still in hand. His tone is too casual for the fragile relationship between them, but neither of them minds. Rhys enjoys having a conversation without side-glances and judging, and Jack seems to also be in a need of talking someone who doesn’t moo at him in return.

The younger man’s stomach rumbles in answer, and Jack chuckles. “Thought so. C’mon, move the long legs of yours. I’ll make you a food better than anything you’ve ever had.”

There is a chain and a padlock keeping the door closed, and the windows on the lower floor of the house are covered by wooden planks. Jack opens the door and lets Rhys walk in, then locks it again from the inside. There is darkness for a while and some bumping into each another as Jack tries to get to something but forgets Rhys is in the way, but eventually, after a few clicks, a flame blooms in an oil lamp.

Jack leads the way into a kitchen, lighting more light sources along the way. “Sit down,” he orders when he sees Rhys curiously wandering around and touching things. Everything in the house is nice, colourful and new to him. The Omega obeys, although he pouts, earning a long gaze from the Alpha, an expression he can’t decipher.

The older man makes fire in the stove and then – to Rhys’ dismay – pours the _milk_ into a pot and starts warming it up. He gets a talkative mood, which shouldn’t be surprising given their first encounter.

“Now, before the Plague, there would be no way I would call _porridge_ a good food, but after you spend three years eating skag skewers and two-ingredient-bread, you learn to appreciate the option of variety. I have a large stash of honey, and porridge with honey and some nuts, _oh man_ , you’ll love this.”

Rhys rests his elbow on the table and his chin in his palm, head tilted to the side as he watches the Alpha busy himself around the kitchen. For someone who was so opposed to the idea of having to let another person into his life, he surely looks too happy to be able to care for someone.

What is scary is that Rhys is enjoying being cared for way too much. Jack fishes another water bottle from a cupboard and opens it for him before letting him drink, and while the Alpha goes on about explaining how he safely stores purified water, the Omega distractedly thinks about the gesture. He wouldn’t be able to open a bottle easily, not without spilling some, anyway. But Jack opened it for him without even thinking about it. Rhys likes it, because he is almost sure that Jack knows that he would need help anyway and he doesn’t bring it up to mock Rhys. The people in his village would always mock or degrade him.

As they sit down to eat, Jack shuts up for a while, wolfing down his meal. Rhys takes a hesitant bite, and when he learns that it is exactly as good as Jack promised, if not better, he eats it even faster, almost choking on the food. He leans back in the chair then, a blissed out expression on his face. He feels strangely relaxed, mind a little fuzzy. It doesn’t seem to be the sunstroke, just a warm feeling slowly spreading through his body.

Jack’s chuckle makes him open his eyes, that he didn’t know he had closed. The Alpha is smiling, not unkindly. “Yeah, Omegas and honey, that’s a classic! Feels good? You all sleepy and warm?”

“Mm-hm,” Rhys nods, lulled by the Alpha’s kind tone. “Were there any Omegas in your life before the Plague?” he asks curiously.

There is a long silence, one Rhys doesn’t mind. He is half dozing off when Jack answers a quiet _yeah_. After a few more minutes, he speaks again. “Right before it started, I just got into the college that I would need to take the world. Don’t laugh! I would be the most powerful man in the universe if my plan worked,” he assures Rhys with a cocky smile. “She was in my class. Funny, always smiling and joking around, but when she got a problem to solve, something worth thinking about, she got so... Jeeze, I can’t even describe it! I loved it…” His face falls and he looks away. “We started dating, we were inseparable. I think it was two months? Then the Plague and quarantine started, we couldn’t see each other without endangering the other one. I’d like to think she’s still alive… But what life could an Omega have in this world?”

The gloomy atmosphere brings Rhys down from his high fast. He straightens in the chair and whispers: “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, idiot,” Jack scoffs. “That was twenty years ago, I’m over it. It’s just shitty, that it happened. To her, to me, maybe to your parents. But hey, I made myself a nice little place in this world. I can make you rabbit steaks for lunch tomorrow. Oh, and pancakes for breakfast! I bet you’ve never had those!” he laughs, the corners of his eyes wrinkling. For a second, he gazes to the side, as if remembering a faded memory. Then his face clears up again and he stands up. “Anyway, let’s get you to bed.”

A shiver runs through Rhys’ body. It feels like something possessing him – or maybe it is the honey? – when he says: “Yours?” He raises his eyebrows provocatively, biting his lip.

Jack’s whole body tenses up as he once more has to fight to keep from giving in to his instincts. His nostrils flare and he scowls at Rhys. “What the hell are you doin’?” he asks, but there is no threat in his voice, just mild confusion. He shakes his head and huffs. “I don’t know whether you’re offering yourself to me or what the hell do you want, Rhysie, but this is a dangerous game you are playing.”

Rhys bites his lip again, watching the effect it has on the Alpha, a long steady breath being let out through his nose as he resists the temptation to bite them himself. “I don’t know either,” Rhys admits. He is not sure what he is doing but he wants to try it. Tentatively, he takes a step towards Jack. “I don’t wanna be alone, _Alpha_ ,” he says in a low voice that he hopes comes off as flirty.

A low groan leaves Jack’s lips, making Rhys shiver. In a blink of an eye, he is pressed against a wall, the Alpha’s strong, big body denying him space or any chance at escaping it. But he doesn’t want to run; he’s not afraid. He pushes back just lightly, just enough to feel it, and at the same time, bares his throat to Jack, peering at him through his eyelashes.

“Oh, Rhysie…” the older man hums, voice heavy with something Rhys doesn’t recognise but he has an idea what it might be. He can feel Jack’s cock filling out in his jeans, Rhys’ own already hard. This is the first time in his life he had come close to anything like this, and he loves it, wants more. A needy whimper escapes his mouth as the thought of _more_ crosses his mind.

The Alpha gives him a long glance, taking in his body, his expression, the way Rhys presents himself and tries to get more of Jack on him. “Good little Omega,” he hums, and the shiver that it causes shakes the both of them. “Do you want a big Alpha to take care of you?” he asks, brushing Rhys’ cheek with his fingers. The Omega nods eagerly. “Aren’t you… scared?” Jack asks, but he’s already diving in, connecting their mouths.

Rhys moans when he feels the older man’s hot lips on his own. It feels so good he thinks he might cry. He’s never felt anything like that good before. And then their lips begin to move, as well as their bodies. Instinctively, Rhys presses closer, his hips meeting Jack’s in a way that makes the both of them grunt.

“Fuck!” Jack swears, pulling away a little, shoulders shaking with how much he’s restraining himself.

Boldly, Rhys winks at him and says: “Please, do.”

He squeals when he is picked up and thrown over a shoulder. Jack hastily shuts most of the lamps, taking one of them with him as he basically runs up the stairs with Rhys still thrown over his shoulder, steadying him with a hand on his butt. The Omega feels slick wetting the fabric there, and Jack must feel it too, judged by the way his fingers sink into the meat of Rhys’ ass almost painfully, his pace picking up.

There is the sound of door being kicked open, more movement, and then Rhys gasps as he lands on a mattress, Jack crawling over him before he even gets to look around. One of Jack’s thighs is forced between his, and he takes the opportunity to thrust up, rutting against the Alpha’s leg.

“Al-Alpha,” he gasps, a moan following the sound, then a desperate whine when Jack pulls away.

“Shh,” the older man shushes him, the shadows in his face making him look devilish, _bestial_ as he lays on his side beside Rhys, one hand immediately diving in his pants, in his underwear, wrapping around his cock.

With a desperate, choked-off sound, Rhys thrusts up into the tight heat of Jack’s big hand, chasing the pleasure that seems to be boiling him from the inside. “J-Jack,” he moans, spilling his release in his waiting hand.

Jack chuckles, leaning in to briefly kiss Rhys again, then scenting his neck. “You’ve never been with an Alpha before, right?” he asks knowingly. “That means that your first heat will prolly come soon if I fuck you tonight a few times, right?”

Rhys moans, the idea sounding good even in his post-orgasmic state. “I-I-I think that’s how-how it works, yeah,” he stutters, gazing up at Jack with glassy eyes. Suddenly, the Alpha is above him again, hand moving on his soft dick in long slow strokes. “J-Jack? What are you— Ah! _Ah_ , Alpha! I can’t,” he whimpers, too sensitive and overstimulated.

“Shh,” Jack soothes him and kisses him. “Be a good Omega for me, Rhysie. I’m just getting you ready for me. You want me to fuck you, right?” he asks, squeezing his dick tighter for a second.

“Oh, God, yes!” Rhys whimpers, thrusting into Jack’s hand even though it makes him hiss, his body too hot and flushed all over.

The Alpha chuckles darkly. “Oh yeah, we’re gonna have so much fun together, baby boy. Tonight, I’m gonna take you, and bond you, and I’ll breed you. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” he asks, getting a litany of _yes, yes, please, yes_ from the Omega. “I’ll breed you over and over,” he promises. “You’ll give me so many kids you’ll forget their names, and you’ll love it. You’ll be begging for my knot every day. We’ll be great together.”

Rhys comes again, not even fully hard yet. He trembles, eyes fixed on the Alpha, unable to look away. Jack stares down at him, half amused and half almost feral. “Oh, Rhysie, my good little Omega… You’re ready, babe.”

The Omega whimpers when he is suddenly turned onto his stomach, his clothes literally _torn_ from his body, the trembling getting worse. He is overstimulated, excited, his thoughts are a mess and he is spent, but he wants it, wants all of it. He presses back against the Alpha, feeling Jack’s hard cock slide between his sloppy wet cheeks.

“Jack,” he says, putting all the desire and pleading into this words, because currently, there is nothing else in his head.

“Got’cha, Cupcake,” the Alpha whispers into his ear. “Let me take care of you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My huge ABO headcanon is that honey is like a weak drug to Omegas. Not strong enough to affect decision making but enough to make them relax when stressed, kind of like anxiety medicine. I played with that concept in one story I didn’t finish.) FYI


	6. Hospital AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: Mature  
> Trigger Warnings: Mentions of Suicide Attempts, Anorexia, Mental Illness, Hallucination, Psychological Horror  
> Additional Tags: Dark, Rhys is crazy, Doctor Jack, starring Nurse Nina  
> Wordcount: 2961
> 
> This one turned out creepy. >.<

“Nina! The boy is here!”

The receptionist is anything but subtle about what he thinks about Rhys. He looks down at him with barely concealed disgust, rushes him off into the doctor’s office with a mere flick of his wrist.

Rhys is alone in the hospital, but he knows that that is just a trick. His mother is waiting in the car parked closest to the door and his father had probably walked around the building to be ready by the other exit if Rhys were to try and run. Not to speak about the high probability that they put a tracker on him in case he was to disappear. Who knows what hides in the buttons of his shirt?

Sighing, he follows the routine. He will walk into Dr Blue’s office, sit on the table, lie about every single detail of his life, be called out, continue to deny. He will spend exactly thirty minutes there and then he will either be sent home or kept here, fed through a tube for some time, then sent to the rehabilitation centre. And in a few months, they will do it again.

The grey label on the door says Dr Maya Blue in a strange font. He would probably be able to copy it by memory in his sleep by now. After all those years, Rhys lost count of how many times he visited this doctor. How many times she looked down at him and pretended to care, then asked him whether he had been taking his medicine or forgot again.

Nurse Nina should be called Guard Nina, or _Nina, The Mountain._ The reason why it is always her to escort Rhys to the office – and he knows for sure that he is the only patient that is always being escorted – is that she wouldn’t hesitate to throw him over her shoulder and carry him there if he as much as looked in the direction of the emergency exit or some window.

The door is opened, and Rhys is pushed in, the big woman standing in the doorframe to make sure he doesn’t book it at the last second. She doesn’t walk in after him, though. That is different than usually.

For the first time, Rhys pauses, sensing the change in the air, the bump in the routine. He looks up to the doctor and doesn’t see Maya and her fake kind smile. At her table, a man in his forties is sitting, looking bored.

“Is Maya’s patient. Rhys is regular here,” Nina announces in heavy accent.

The doctor looks up for the first time, gives Rhys one short glance and then waves the nurse off. “Thanks, I’ll handle it from here. Wait by the door,” he says. As if Nina really was security.

Rhys turns around when he hears the door close. This is the first time he is alone with the doctor in the office. Before, it was partially also caused by the fight he put up the first time they hospitalised him against his will. Maybe this doctor doesn’t know the story that had been going around in the hospital since then, about the—

“I believe you will not bite me, but I can call her back in if you really like the struggle part,” the doctor says nonchalantly. So, he knows.

Rhys turns back to him, seeing that the doctor is now leaning back in his chair, arms folded behind his head. He is just sitting there, not doing anything. _He is_ _just_ _watching_ _him_. Is he daring the young man to do it, to try and run or fight? But the routine had been broken, and Rhys is not sure what to make of it, what to do.

Nothing happens for a while, and then the doctor stands up. It causes the patient to twitch a little, talking the smallest step back. There is something about this doctor triggering red flags and alarm bells in his mind. But he doesn’t want to run. He wants to find it and prod at it. See exactly how much danger he is in.

“Strip to your underwear, then step on the weight,” the doctor says, now leaning on his desk, arms crossed. It makes Rhys’ heart sink in disappointment. This is how it always goes.

There is a curtain in the corner of the room and a chair behind it. As always, Rhys sits down at first, to take off his shoes, keeping his socks on for luck. They are blue, stripped with little stars. Then, he takes off his pants, then shirt. He spares a minute to look at each button, trying to gauge out which one is wired.

When he steps out, Rhys pauses again. He feels the doctor’s gaze on him immediately, but it doesn’t feel like Maya’s. Hers is always a look of concern, worry, all feigned and making him feel disgusted. This doctor looks at him differently, his face is unreadable as he studies every detail of Rhys’ body. It makes him want to dip behind the curtain again, ask to borrow one of the gowns they provide to patients. Rhys even considers the unlikely option that the doctor is some kind of creep, but his look doesn’t resemble a leer.

“Go on,” he says, nodding towards the weight. Rhys takes a few careful steps, not wanting to turn his back to the man. He has to, in the end, standing with his back to him on the weight. Usually, he just looks to the side, away from the display that says how little he weights. This time, he takes the opportunity to look over his shoulder, watch the doctor stalking closer to him with a clipboard and a pen in his hands.

When he notices the patient’s gaze, the doctor speaks again, but his own eyes remain fixed on something on Rhys’ back. “I don’t believe we’ve met before. Dr Jack Lawrence,” he introduces himself. “Maya had to take an emergency time off. I’ve read your file, don’t worry. First hospitalised six years ago after a suicide attempt; diagnosed with severe paranoia, schizophrenia; suffered mental anorexia for seven years… Interesting read.”

What is there to worry about, Rhys wonders. Dr Lawrence’s gaze is still on his body, travelling lower, lower, until he chuckles. It startles Rhys and takes him some time to figure out what is there to laugh at. The doctor lets out another uncontainable cackle, then mutters to himself: “ _Jeeze, those socks!_ ”

Rhys squirms, putting one foot over the other as if he were able to hide his socks. There is nothing wrong about them, but he doesn’t feel like explaining that to the doctor. He watches him shake his head and focus on the display. “Stand still, look forward,” he instructs him, and Rhys does so, letting the doctor write down his weight.

“You’re nearing your personal record. Lowest weight, I mean,” he says, not with worry. Just like that. Informing him. “I’ll let your caretakers know that you need to go to the rehabilitation centre again. Why aren’t they here, anyway?” He is asking because Rhys is not legally considered sane, so even as an adult, he has caretakers, and they make medical decisions for him.

The young man chuckles, but it sounds different than the doctor’s careless, amused laugh. The sound on itself speaks about the situation. _Well, isn’t that a great question?_

“Guarding the exits in case I ran,” Rhys answers, his voice raspy and strained. “My _mother_ also believes that if I walk here alone, _willingly_ , it is almost like willingly _seeking help_ , and it will help me _heal_.” His words drip with sarcasm, especially the word _mother_.

The doctor smirks, shakes his head. “Well, with any other patient, I think that might actually help. Not with you.” Before Rhys can ask him to explain that, he nods towards the examination table. “Sit,” he instructs. Orders. As if Rhys were a dog.

Again, he does so without turning his back to the older man. It takes him a few tries to get on the table, and he ends up breathing hard from the strain afterwards. Lawrence follows his movement closely, tapping his pen against the clipboard. When Rhys is done, he steps closer.

Partially, Rhys definitely expects the doctor do to something weird – anything from assaulting him to drinking his blood. He is, once more, disappointed when things turn normal for a while. Except they aren’t exactly normal. Just very, very close to the norm, but something is different.

First, the doctor listens to his heart. He warms the stethoscope a little before putting it to Rhys’ skin, making it less uncomfortable. Without the usual sting of coldness, the young man forgets to breathe deep, and the doctor has to remind him twice. Then, as he moves the instrument over his chest, one of his fingers makes contact with Rhys’ skin, a hot and rough touch he is not used to.

“What’s going on here?” Rhys hears himself ask, unable to stop the question. He sounds pitiful, lost. _Terrified_.

Lawrence pauses, looking at him doubtfully. “What do you mean?” he asks, putting the stethoscope away and getting a blood pressure monitor ready. “I need you to focus, Cupcake. Nothing unusual is happening. Just your monthly check-up.”

The younger man nods, forcing himself to calm down. He knows that he cannot escape these examinations, and the sooner it is over, the sooner he is out. Or, well, this time probably not really out, but at least out of this office.

“Next is blood,” the doctor says, getting a tray with the necessary tools. He looks over his shoulder once when his back is to Rhys, as if the patient were to do something to him. Does he think Rhys is dangerous? The young man chuckles at that thought, earning another nervous look.

“Why don’t you call nurse Nina?” he asks.

The doctor shrugs, bringing the tray to the examination table. “I like to do this myself. So I don’t forget where I started. I might be a great doctor now, but everyone’s started by wiping bed-bound patients’ asses and drawing blood from people, basically, it was a little contest every time – who will faint first, or who will cry in embarrassment first…”

Rhys tilts his head, looking at the doctor. He doesn’t look like the type who would ramble, but this was rambling. “I mean, if you are scared of me,” he adds. “If you are scared of me, why don’t you call the nurse?”

“Really cute,” the doctor smirks, wrapping a rubber band around Rhys’ forearm. “I’m not scared, Kitten.” His hands are like burning irons on Rhys’ forearm as he gently taps it, searching for a good vein. “I know the truth,” he says offhandedly.

“What?” Rhys startles, causing the doctor to miss his vein. “Ow!” he yelps too loud for such a small sting.

“Don’t move, Pumpkin,” the doctor reprimands him, scowling. The needle drives right into the vein on the next try, and the rubber is loosened, a small ampule filling with his dark blood. Is it red or is it dark purple? The ampule is whisked away before the young man can truly determine what colour his blood is.

The doctor returns and stands in front of Rhys, the clipboard in hand, pen ready to take notes. “Now that the worst is out of the way, I’ll ask you some standard questions. Have you been sleeping well?” he asks.

Rhys chuckles incredulously. “No, of course not.”

“Do you eat regularly?”

“No.” What happened to the plan to deny everything, Rhys wonders. His eyes flicker to the small cooler where his blood sample is. If he gets to take a peek inside, he will know what colour it was…

“Focus, Rhysie,” Lawrence reprimands him again, putting a hand on the soft skin of his wrist. Once more, it is like fire, hot, rough. Shouldn’t he be wearing gloves? The hand is gone, the fire remains. When did he—? “Focus!”

Rhys’ head snaps up at the harsh tone. He blinks, seeing that the doctor is scribbling some notes down, one hand holding the clipboard firmly, the other holding the pen. How did they get there so fast? Who touched Rhys? What is going on?

The doctor frowns briefly in concern, and in the next instant, the expression is gone from his face, back to the unreadable one. “Have you been taking your pills regularly?” he asks, the tip of the pen hovering over the paper.

Rhys shakes his head simply.

The clipboard and the pen both clatter to the ground, both of the doctor’s hands now on Rhys’ shoulders. “What do you mean you—?! You _haven’t_?! Fuck!” His voice is a hurried whisper filled with panic. “ _Why?!_ ” he implores.

“I-I,” Rhys stammers, struggling to understand the situation. A strange ringing settles in his ears, like a siren, and he covers his ears with his hands, whimpering, but Jack pulls them away.

“You _need_ to take them!” he says, looking him right in the eyes. Offhandedly, Rhys notices that they are both yellow. A strange, unusual colour. “Did they give you instructions?” the doctor continues to pry frantically, eyes darting to the window in the room every couple seconds. “I don’t know how exactly they work and how to help you; it’s not like I can look it up on the echonet. It’s not the official stuff!” Both his hands move into his hair, ruffling his previously perfect style.

Rhys’ eyes widen, and he nods. “Y-yeah, he answers. “I h-have a list. Got it with the prescription. It says I should take the-the, a-after eating…”

Lawrence sighs out one long sigh of relief, shoulders sagging visibly. “Good. Good, you do that. Good.” He rubs his face with both hands, then shakes off what seems to be a full-body shiver. “They would—” he halts himself, a strange sob-like sound coming from his mouth. “They would _not_ be happy. The plan, and the… Fuck, this could end badly. For all of us. Rhys, you… Are you listening to me?” he shakes the younger man’s shoulders again. “You need to keep up! Take the pills, please, for the love of God!”

“I will!” Rhys promises, his own voice high-pitched and trembling. He notices that there are tears in his eyes, so he starts rubbing his face dry, not wanting to appear weak in front of the silhouettes behind the windows. When he pulls his hands away from his face, the doctor has the clipboard in his hands again, his hair is brushed back, even the fear is gone from his face.

“You can go now,” he says, scribbling down a last note.

Rhys’ legs shake and his knees threaten to give in as he walks to the curtain to pick up his clothes. He turns to the doctor multiple times to look, see, find some proof that it really did happen, but besides a warmth on his body anywhere he was touched, there is nothing.

There… is a small chance that he imagined it. It had happened before. When he was tired or cold or scared, Rhys had seen things that later turned out to be non-existent. This might be the same case.

He tells himself that, and he might even believe it, but as he turns around in the door, looking at the doctor one more time, he is not sprawled in his chair and bored. He is sitting straight and looking at him, face serious as he nods once. Rhys nods back.

Nurse Nina escorts him to the exit, and Rhys steps into the car in silence. He remembers, suddenly, that he should have been hospitalised. His mother is asking why didn’t they keep him this time. He doesn’t answer, thinking. His mother starts crying, sobbing that her son is gone, and Rhys frowns. He is right there… Unless it is not his mother! Of course.

He needs one more proof, though. Then he can believe. When they arrive home, he looks at the packaging of the pills, intent on looking them up on the internet. Wait, didn’t the doctor say ‘echonet’?

Rhys shakes his head and looks down at the box in his hand, but instead of a name, there are strange symbols on it. The box falls to the floor as Rhys fumbles to look at the list of instructions instead. Indeed, there are those symbols where names should be. He looks around, making sure no-one else sees him as he quickly reads the instructions and matches the boxes to them.

“Mom!” he calls, because he cannot really call the person _‘you, person who pretends to be my mother, and maybe actually is, but how can I tell’_. “I need a sandwich to eat!”

Of course, it is not easy to force the food down, but the memory of the doctor’s frightened face is as good motivation as any. When he notices his mother staring at him, crying, he snorts. “You don’t know the truth,” he tells them matter-of-factly. They think he is cured or something. No, he is just keeping up with _the plan_ , whatever the plan is.

Right after he is done eating, Rhys swallows a couple pills and sets a reminder for the next dose. Need to keep up. He can already feel their effect on him, fixing something that he didn’t know is broken. Are all humans broken? Was he chosen to be fixed? The pills will protect him from the stares, the voices. He needs to find Jack again, ask him about the plan. But first, he needs to get back on track. Keep up with the plan, whatever the plan is. Eat, sleep, take your _meds_ …

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, clarification: Jack is a good doctor, the _best_ doctor, and he knows how to help Rhys. He manipulated him, using his paranoia and schizophrenia against him, into taking his medicine.


	7. Childhood Friends AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: Explicit  
> Trigger Warnings: Homophobia, Blood and Injury, Sexual Assault, Non-Con Elements, Implied Murder  
> Additional Tags: Some Friendly Flirting, Rhys has a crush, Modern Setting, Dark  
> Wordcount: 1784
> 
> The idea I went with for this AU was: What if Jack and Rhys were friends since childhood, and Rhys was forced to witness the moment when Jack's personality turned around?

The sound of the lawnmower told Rhys where to look for Jack. He foregoes knocking on the main door and simply walks around the house, thankful that he can avoid Jack’s witch of a grandmother this time. That woman is nuts, and she is always rude to him. She called him faggot ever since he was a kid, which is probably the reason why Jack usually stayed over at his place, and not the other way around.

Staying over is the reason why Rhys came here today. He hopes he can get Jack to come to his place tonight to play some video games (and to help him with his IT homework). Tempting the four years older boy with a warm shower, or even a bath, a good meal and some stress-free environment works almost every time.

Even as kids, they were almost inseparable. Rhys’ mom, bless her good heart, didn’t mind that Jack was spending half of the time at their place, sleeping over at least once a week. She accepted him as if he were another child of hers. Rhys liked to believe that once they are both older, adults, Jack will always remember this as a good part of his childhood, that he will not curse the whole town.

Maybe Rhys hoped that Jack will not forget about him once he moves away, probably higher in the world. Jack’s ambitions reached high, much higher than Rhys’, and it was obvious that their paths will split soon. But they can always remain friends, right? No matter how much Rhys wished they could be more than that (but Jack was unfortunately as straight as Rhys was gay, which means a _lot_ ). He could at least have this, right?

The sound of the lawnmower stops as Jack goes to empty the bin. He does not notice Rhys, and the younger man takes advantage of it for a while, admiring his friend’s naked tan chest. He is eighteen and over his obsession, but he can indulge his inner teenager once in a while.

Jack finally notices him when he returns with the now empty basket, shielding his eyes with one hand as he winks at Rhys in lieu of a greeting. Maybe he knows that Rhys had been watching and now he is mocking him, but that is improbable. Jack would already make a disgusted face and tell Rhys that he is sick if he thought that he was being stared at.

“Hey, handsome!” Rhys shouts jokingly, walking the rest of the distance between them. The nickname was Jack’s choice, so he could use it anytime without earning offended scowls.

“What do you want?” Jack asks right away when Rhys stops in front of him. “I’m kinda in the middle of something here, as you can see.”

Frowning at the unkind welcome, Rhys looks over his shoulder at the part of the lawn that was already mowed. Most of it is already turning yellow because of being cut in the middle of the day, in the highest heat.

“Destroying your witch’s lawn?” Rhys asks with a raised brow when he turns back to Jack.

“Ye _p_ ,” the older man admits, popping the _p_ and grinning.

“Unbelievable,” Rhys chuckles. “Are you sure it’s a good idea? No, scratch that. Do you want a hideout for the evening?” In the end, it even plays into his plan. “A cosy hideout with the new _The First of Us_ and spaghetti for dinner.”

Jack seems to ponder over it, his face scrunching up a little as it turns more serious than expected, and then shrugs. “Yeah, why not. Meet you at 8. Now, if you excuse me…” He goes back to mowing without waiting for Rhys’ confirmation or saying bye.

* * *

At 8 in the evening, Rhys is, as always, dressed in his most comfy clothes and ready to warm up the dinner for him and Jack. His parents are watching the TV, laughing at some cheap comedy. The new game is waiting for them in his room, along with a bottle of wine and a bottle of vodka, both sneakily stolen from his father’s stash. Whatever Jack decides to drink tonight, Rhys is ready to keep up.

Jack arrives thirty minutes late. Rhys’ mom asked him twice during that time if he is sure that Jack will come, which brought his good mood down a few degrees. When there finally is a knock on the door, however, his face lights up and he rushes to open it.

What he sees is not what he expected. Firstly, there is a lot of blood, and Rhys gasps, knees buckling as nausea threatens to take over. Jack also has a duffel bag on his back.

The older man lets himself in, shutting the door when Rhys fails to make any move. He says hi to his parents as he proceeds to go to Rhys’ room, and judged by the lack of screaming, they didn’t even turn away from the TV when they answered.

Rhys’ brain reboots, and he numbly follows the plan he set for today, reheating the food quickly. When he brings two plates to his room ten minutes later, Jack is lying on his bed, a half empty bottle of vodka in his hand.

“Perfect!” he says, grinning at Rhys as he puts the alcohol aside and snatches one plate away from him. His face is haphazardly covered in bandages, sterile patches and band-aids, covering most of the U-shaped wound.

“Does it hurt?” Rhys asks, voice high and trembling. “I, I, I mean, d-do you need to go to the, to the hospital?”

“Nah,” Jack shrugs. “Expected it worse, I can handle this.” He digs into the food with his usual speed, eating most of it before Rhys even gets some noodles wrapped on the fork in his shaky hand.

That trying to eat is futile effort he realises soon, when blood begins to seep through the bandages on Jack’s face. Rhys puts his plate away, and Jack eats the rest of it too, having finished his portion long ago. He doesn’t seem to have a problem eating with the wound on his face. Maybe it isn’t as bad as it seems. But it is definitely too bad to be earned just for ruining some grass.

“What happened?” Rhys finally asks when Jack finishes eating.

“A lot of things, Cupcake,” Jack answers, getting the bottle of vodka again and taking a huge gulp. The fact that he called Rhys _Cupcake_ is a little disturbing, because he always saved pet names for girls only. “I ruined the garden, cut up all the curtains, took a piss in the fridge, just completely wrecked the house. I also packed my things and was ready to run after I see ol’ gran’s face. I expected her to go after the shotgun, but she took a broken bottle to my face. Could be worse, though.”

“I don’t see how much worse this could be,” Rhys says quietly, stunned by the news.

“Well,” Jack chuckles darkly, “she could have gotten the shotgun before I did, and the body in the kitchen could be mine, for one.”

Ice cold sweat covers Rhys’ whole body as he shivers, eyes wide open and tearing up. He shakes his head, clutching the armrest of his chair in a death grip. “Tell me you are joking,” he pleads, but something about the look in Jack’s eye, the one that is not obscured by bandages, tells him that he is deadly serious.

“She deserved it,” he says, shrugging again. He stands up then, pacing the room while sipping more of the alcohol. “You see, Rhysie,” he says, turning to him with one of his trademark grins, “I had this all planned out from the beginning. Remember the blackmail material I got at Hyperion? That company is crazy, full of bloodthirsty maniacs. Exactly my cup of tea! I found out where the CEO lives. I’ve got some big plans, Rhysie, and by the end of the week, I will be the new CEO of Hyperion.”

“That’s crazy,” Rhys says, hiding his face in his hands as he tries to tell himself that this is not happening. Suddenly, there is sharp pain on the back of his head, and he is pulled up by his hair. Hissing in pain, he meets Jack’s eye again.

“Any problems, Cupcake?” the older man asks. His voice is low and threatening, and his breath smells of alcohol. “Is this not how you imagined this evening going? Is this not your little fantasy? I thought you liked when I showed how strong I am…” With that, he effortlessly throws the younger man on the bed.

Rhys only has time to turn on his back before Jack is on him, sitting on his legs, one forearm pressing his chest into the mattress. “Is this what you wanted instead?” he growls. His other hand slowly trails from Rhys’ face down, down. “For me to be _sick_ like you; to rough you up and fuck your dirty ass?” His hand reaches Rhys’ crotch, gripping his member through the clothes.

The younger man hisses at the painful manipulation but doesn’t dare to make any other sound, doesn’t dare to move. He had never been so scared in his life.

And Jack continues, fondling him roughly and growling more threatening insults. The manhandling is painful, but Rhys’ body doesn’t seem to care, and after a few minutes, he is hard in Jack’s hand, tears spilling from his eyes.

Jack stops his movements, grinning victoriously. “Aha, here we go,” he says. “You’re exactly as small as I remember. Pity I won’t get to see if it is also as awry as I remember. I should go now, have some running from the police to do.”

With that, Jack gets up, picks up his duffel bag and the vodka, and leaves. He shoots Rhys one last grin from the doorway, and then he is gone. Off to murder someone, probably.

When he hears the main door snap shut, Rhys curls into a ball and begins to cry fully. He feels dirty and hurt, and lost and confused. He doesn’t even hear over his sobs when his mother comes into the room.

“Rhysie, did something happen?” she asks gently, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Did you and Jackie have a fight?”

For a second, Rhys considers telling her. They should call the police, warn them. Jack needs to be stopped…

But he doesn’t do that. He mutters a half-lie about Jack moving away, telling his mother that he will miss him, and lets Jack escape. His friend must still be in there, somewhere. Rhys cannot betray him.


	8. Superheroes AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: Explicit  
> Trigger Warnings: Implied Minor Character Death, Violence and Injuries, distantly implied/referenced Mpreg(?), vaguely referenced loss of a child  
> Additional Tags: Healer Rhys, Hero Handsome Jack, Smut, Rimming, Anal sex, Teasing, Angst, Plot, some Suspense, some Action, Happy Ending  
> Wordcount: 7709
> 
> Vaguely, distantly inspired by Hancock, but I ran off and the original idea is almost lost. :D

There are two superheroes in this world – Handsome Jack and Rhys, the hero and the healer. They possess strength and powers other humans can’t even dream of. They are immortal. Ageless. Beautiful and desirable. Genius. They have a lot in common, but they couldn’t be more different.

Handsome Jack, as he likes to call himself, is a public figure. He is arrogant, well aware of the power he has. He knows how to use it. The corporation he had created fifteen years ago, Hyperion, is the most spread around the world brand, and where his supernatural powers don’t reach, the company and its loyal employees do.

Rhys is nothing like that. He thinks he is not like that, anyway… Who or what he really is, he doesn’t remember. He woke up sixteen years ago, head blank like a clean sheet of paper. Only little glimpses of dulled memories remain, none of them making any sense. He woke up in pain, missing an arm and an eye, a huge scar on the side of his head where a sharp object was obviously stabbed in, and as soon as he could, he started running.

There were many proofs to what Jack said about the two of them. Paintings as old as the civilization, ancient books, photos, articles, even some blurry videos. They all showed Rhys and Jack fighting the evil, though never side by side.

They also showed Rhys with two brown eyes and two arms, but his arm was lost, and his eye miraculously healed to have blue colour. And there was no explanation to what happened fifteen years ago anywhere, only articles and news stations on TV reporting that one of the heroes is lost. A tenth of Hyperion funds went into efforts to locate Rhys every month, but the rest of the world did little more than wonder. They only needed one hero – the strong, fast, wise, Handsome Jack.

Rhys’ powers were different. They came back to him first, mere seconds after waking up. Healing, illusions, very, _very_ high intelligence. He was able to recover fast and disappear, leaving no trail. Soon, he learned who he used to be, and that Handsome Jack is looking for him. Presumably to finish him off. There was a great chance that the mask he started wearing had something to do with Rhys.

The healer decided to seek safety at the end of the world. In the poorest, most removed regions he could find, he would cure people and make crops grow faster, and then he would move on. Some of the people tried to start a religion worshipping him, but he put an end to that quickly. He was just a confused healer on the run, no god.

Meanwhile, Handsome Jack became a god. With no other hero to throw shadow on him or compare to him, he became the most powerful man in the world. Richest, most desirable, the one who world leaders sought when they needed advice. He had connections everywhere, he _was_ everywhere, posters with his face appearing even in the regions where Rhys would hide. And his ego grew by the day as he spoke publicly with no shame about being the best, the smartest, _the only one_.

Rhys liked to watch these broadcast whenever he got close enough to civilisation. It felt like being taunted, like Jack wanted to provoke him to show himself, just to show the arrogant hero that maybe he isn’t the only one, but Rhys didn’t let him get under his skin. Instead, he focused on the tone of his voice, the line of his shoulders, the wide stretch of his chest. He focused on Jack’s self-confidence and the way he showed it, his I’m-the-god-and-you-know-it attitude.

Rhys tried to absorb it, thinking it would give him the strength he would need when Jack inevitably found him, but every time he watched a broadcast, a nagging thought grew in his brain that maybe this isn’t the true reason why he is seeking them out. It was strange, but Rhys almost felt like he… desired Jack. Like he had a _crush_ , but he couldn’t see a reason to have a crush on that arrogant old man besides the fact that he was the only known person like him.

Years passed with Rhys on the run, never staying long enough for the legend of his existence to reach further than the next village. Until he made a grave mistake and stayed just a day longer.

It was a tradition that Handsome Jack would broadcast a long speech on the 8th of August every year. Rhys suspected that it was the day when he got injured, but he could never be sure about that. He was just hiding in a rather big town, offering his healing powers to people in dark alleys and dead end streets, when he learned that it is that time of the year again. He already spent too much time in that town, but he decided to stay one more day, seeking a pub with a TV to watch and paying by healing the pub-keeper’s daughter who suffered the black cough.

Clad in torn, dirty clothes, shoeless and with dust on his face, Rhys sat in the corner and watched, eyes transfixed on the screen and ears focused on each word. Every time Jack’s voice got low, warmth pooled in his stomach. He could imagine those words being spoken right into his ear, and he could imagine himself liking it. And every time Jack got over-excited, like he often did, speaking fast and smirking like he knew all the secrets of the world, Rhys found himself smiling along, relaxing into the hero’s maniacal, jovial mood.

It was almost as if there was a connection between them. Although in his speech, Jack addressed the whole world and the world’s current problems, it felt like he was actually just discussing them with Rhys. The fact that Jack was definitely the kind of a guy who would have a one-sided discussion didn’t help. It felt like he was talking to Rhys, and Rhys listened, not minding his surroundings. Not noticing the men in black clothes and with yellow guns filtering into the pub.

What got Rhys’ attention was a fleeting flicker of emotion on Jack’s face. Not the controlled seriousness or childish excitement, but jaw going slack for a second, words dying out, eyes widening. Just a second, and then he cleared his throat and continued. For just the shortest moment, he looked to the side of the camera and nodded almost imperceptibly.

The blood in Rhys’ veins ran cold, goosebumps appearing all over his body. Whatever connection was between him and Jack let him know that somehow, this is about him. That when Jack looked into the camera again, he looked right at him.

Rhys finally decided that the speech is not worth it, that he can watch a rerun somewhere else, later, in a different country, maybe on a different continent. He stood up abruptly, about to head out of the pub, but shit broke loose in that exact second. He finally noticed the black-clad men, who in turn drew their guns. They didn’t point them at him, because that would be pointless. Instead, every person in the pub was targeted.

“Nobody move!” one of the men shouted. The people began to panic; none of them probably even spoke English. One of Rhys’ traits was speaking every language, so he repeated the order in a much calmer voice. After all, he still didn’t feel threatened. In sixteen years, this was barely the first time someone tried to capture him.

With a dark smirk, Rhys summoned an illusion of all the knives in the pub flying into the air and pointing towards each of the Hyperion men. He waited a few seconds, giving them a chance to flee. Some of them paid the object nervous glances. When none of the men backed down, he let the knives fly towards their eyes and made himself invisible just as the illusions hit.

To his surprise, most of the men didn’t even flinch. They didn’t even blink at the thought of losing their eyes to Rhys’ superpowers. The second he made himself invisible, one of the men broke his hold on the hostage and launched at Rhys, tackling him to the ground.

“Got him!” he called victoriously, but Rhys shook him off in the next second. Just like Jack, he was really strong, though he could never use the strength to hurt someone.

“This is the last warning!” a man who was supposedly the leader of the group called. The safety of his gun was released, followed by everyone else’s. “Come with us, or these people die!”

Rhys closed his eyes and took a shaky breath. He knew that in the great scheme of things, those deaths might be considered necessary. If he stays alive and free, he can save many lives. He can probably even heal most of the people, unless they are shot in the head. But he also knew that he would feel their pain, and that no death is worth it, no life less precious than his one. Rhys had lived for thousands of years, even though he couldn’t remember most of them. Maybe it was his time to go.

“Don’t,” he hissed, making himself visible again. The second he did so, two sets of arms grabbed him. “I’ll go,” he said, his voice hoarse with bitter emotions. He looked up, seeing as some of the hostages shook their heads. Maybe they couldn’t understand the words, but they knew what was happening. Some of them even tried to fight the armed men.

“I have to go,” he said in their language. “This has to happen. Please, don’t fight fate.” Playing on the people’s religious side worked, and they gave up, nodding. Rhys was moved when he saw tears in some of their eyes.

The armed men didn’t let go of him until there were cuffs on his arm, one on the wrist and another above the elbow, connecting him to two men by thick chains. If those cuffs had electric locks, he would get out of them in no time, maybe even if they were the classical metal ones. But the men went for leather ones, with a buckle. No safety pin to reach for to release them, no way to cheat it. The chains connecting him to similar cuffs on the men’s wrists were so strong he wouldn’t be able to break them without tearing the men’s arms off their shoulders.

In a way, Rhys felt like they deserved to have their arms torn off for threatening the innocent men of this town. A lot off them had six to ten children that they had to feed, and their families would starve without then. But he would never be able to hurt them, especially as a revenge for something that didn’t happen.

Rhys was loaded into a white van with too many armed men for how powerless he actually was. They kept their eyes on him, almost unblinking. Just for the fun of it, he made himself invisible for most of the ride, resulting in hands touching his arm at all times. He didn’t like the touch, but the men’s panic was too hilarious to resist.

After roughly thirty minutes, the van stopped, and Rhys was led to a helicopter. He knew where it would take him, and just out of spite, he summoned as many annoying illusions as he could. He made it seem like the door wouldn’t open even though it already was, made smoke rise from the helicopter’s engine, summoned an earthquake, fooling the human’s senses, and then made it look like he got out of the cuffs and just strode away. To his displeasure, the men mostly didn’t buy it. As if they were trained for this, which was impossible, no-one could be trained for his powers, they were unique.

When the men figured out the illusion with the door and loaded Rhys on the helicopter, and they took off even though the monitors in the cockpit went crazy every couple minutes, four freaking heavily armed fighter jets joined the helicopter, circling it and guarding. For shits and giggles, Rhys kept summoning some disconcerting illusions on them too, but it stopped being fun after an hour.

The flight was only three hours. Hyperion really progressed in technology, and soon, Rhys was moved from the poorest region of the planet to the richest one. They landed just shy of Helios and continued in a van, in a convoy of armed cars. Rhys was pretty sure he knew where they were going, and for the first time, fear hit him.

Helios had become the heart of Handsome Jack’s empire. The city was the most modern, richest and most developed. Packed with technology that wasn’t even humanly possible, provided by the semi-god. Rhys was being taken either into his office, into his private penthouse, or maybe into the ZOO, to become a curiosity in Handsome Jack’s possession. For all he knew, he would be killed, or tortured for the rest of his life. Something went down between him and the hero years ago, and now he was bound to pay.

The van stopped, and Rhys was led out, by the looks of it, into Jack’s penthouse. The whole high building belonged to him, though maybe they would take him to his office after all. As a last ditch effort, Rhys summoned an illusion that made him look better, nice clothes and clean skin, a cologne. It was surprisingly hard to do it, and he was surprised when the illusion shattered as soon as he walked into the building.

So, this was it. Handsome Jack had found a way to block his powers, and Rhys was at his mercy. Fear was replaced by serenity; there was nothing he could do about it.

The building seemed to be completely empty. Save for some more armed men, Rhys didn’t meet a soul. He was led into an elevator and taken to the 69th floor. An uneasy lump had settled in his throat. He couldn’t believe it would end just like this. Years of hiding and running and being good to people, helping them without asking anything in return… And yet here he was, captured and brought on a silver plate to the only man that could really harm him.

The elevator stopped several minutes later and opened. The cuffs were taken off Rhys, but he couldn’t do anything, feeling his powers completely gone. The healer was nudged into the room and the door closed behind him. To his surprise, there were no guards.

He found himself in Handsome Jack’s office, that was for sure. The place was luxurious, filled with expensive stuff, statues and artifacts. On both sides, there were little exhibitions with trophies from the fights he had won. Some of then were old, and Rhys recognised them from photographs with _him_. _He_ had slain those monsters, defeated those enemies! Did Jack steal _his_ accomplishments?!

But when he walked closer to take a look, Rhys saw the captions under those trophies. _‘Giant Squid threatening the west coast, lured to the beach by Rhys, dried to death, February the 14, 1996’_ was one of them. _‘The last patient of the Canine Virus Pandemic cured by Rhys, June 2, 2002’_ another one, and above it was a photo of Rhys shaking the patient’s hand.

“Oh,” Rhys said to himself. “Well, that’s surprising.” After taking a deep breath, he continued to the corridor leading into the main part of the office. There were huge fish tanks on either side, and the fish stared at him curiously. Rhys let himself enjoy their colourfulness; it might as well be the last nice thing he’d ever get to see.

The door to the office opened for him automatically, and with a last deep breath, Rhys stepped in. This room was just as luxurious as the previous ones. Who the hell has fountains and giant statues of themselves in their office? Not to mention more shelves filed with trophies and steps leading up to their desk. And the fireplace? Way too much.

“Rhys!”

His name, followed by a sharp intake of breath, startled the healer and brought his attention to the owner of this office. Handsome Jack waited for him by his desk, but now he was jogging down the stairs. He stopped a good few paces away from Rhys, taking his visage in. “My god, you look like shit, Pumpkin,” he said, a fake smirk on his face barely hiding the surprisingly real worry in his voice.

Jack looked god-like – no surprise that people worshipped him. He wasn’t wearing the usual clothes today, instead going for something a little more formal. For what occasion, Rhys wondered. Jack was wearing a white shirt, khaki slacks and a jacket, a black tie. He looked like someone who is going for their first dinner date with their crush and not like someone who is about to commit a murder.

Rhys didn’t say anything. He fought to stay calm on the surface, but inside he was panicking. More and more he was realising that he really, _really_ doesn’t want to die. Immortality was a norm to him, and nothing had ever made him face mortality, even when he lost an arm, an eye and his memory.

Almost hesitantly, Jack stepped closer, a slight frown on his face. “Rhysie?” he asked in a whisper, concern making his voice seem heavy.

A shiver ran through Rhys’ body at the pet name, but not really at it. It was like in that moment, he had heard it a million times. Like Jack said it now and a million times in the past, all of those instances resonating in Rhys’ memory until they were gone as suddenly as they appeared. The healer gasped and his hand shot to his temple where a small ache had settled. He hadn’t felt pain in years, and it unsettled him even more than he already was.

Jack stayed rooted in place with visible effort. His hands kept curling into fists and relaxing by his sides, flexed until his knuckles turned white and then released. He had been doing that since Rhys arrived, but it didn’t seem like a gesture of restraint. More like a kind of fidgeting.

For the first time, Rhys considered that maybe Jack’s powers are blocked too, that he keeps checking for them the same way Rhys keeps trying to create an illusion, but they are gone. It is a curious realisation that has no real value, because Rhys is still powerless while Jack is still the most powerful man in the world.

“Rhysie,” Jack speaks again, hurt appearing on his face. “Do you… really not remember?” he asks.

Rhys shakes his head, for the first time reacting to Jack. His hand falls to his side, and the way Jack eyes it longingly doesn’t escape him. And finally, Rhys considers that maybe he will not die today.

“Wh-what happened?” he asks, voice hoarse. “I-I woke up one day, didn’t remember who I am. I was wounded and scared, and heard that you are looking for me. So, I ran.”

Another sharp inhale, and then Jack takes another step closer, as if he was pulled towards Rhys. “You don’t remember,” he repeats. “All these years, I thought you’re running away from me because of _Them_ , but you just… don’t remember…”

While Jack was a damn good manipulator, out of the two of them, Rhys was still the master of illusions and trickery. He was sure that the emotions he saw in Jack’s face were real, and he was all the more confused. And the headache got worse.

“I,” Jack said, then chuckled nervously. “I don’t know where to begin. We… There were the two of us, two guardians to protect this planet. Every planet has a pair… And we were… I mean, you and me… Don’t you _remember_?” his voice breaks.

Something shatters in Rhys. No, he doesn’t, but he knows very well what Jack means. The connection between them, the longing, the phantom memories. He finds himself nodding. “I don’t remember,” he says, contrary to his actions. “But I know. I… I can _feel_ it. Every time I heard your voice, I felt like there was a connection between us, calling to me. But I was scared.”

Jack swears under his breath. “M-may I?” he asks, slowly raising his hand towards Rhys’ head, the side with the scar. The healer eyes it warily for a second but then nods, trying not to flinch when Jack touches the scar with soft fingertips. The hero lets out an array of choice words as his fingers trace the scar all the way into Rhys’ hairline.

Shivers run through Rhys’ body. The scar feels raw, new, as if it didn’t have years to heal. Only one person had touched it before, a curious child that Rhys let get close to him, and no-one after them. Jack touching it, with the pained look on his face, feels like something intimate. Even though it is sensitive and feels raw, he finds himself leaning into the touch, closing his eyes.

Suddenly, there are lips on his. Familiar, warm. He doesn’t remember kissing anyone in his life, ever, but in that moment, it is like they did this every day for thousands of years. Rhys returns the kiss, his breath stuttering and whole body shaking.

When Jack pulls away and Rhys opens his eyes, he is surprised that he gets to keep the distant feeling in his memory. That they have done this before. It feels like the memories are lingering just out of his reach, but he knows they are there; he can touch them with the tips of his fingers when he reaches out past the point of headache.

“Tell me what happened,” he says, surprised at how desperate he sounds. Jack must hear the emotion in his voice too, because he frowns in concern. “It might help me remember,” Rhys explains. “And your voice always had… an effect on me.” He feels himself blush, but for the first time, Jack’s smirk is one of honest amusement.

“You’re still a dumbass, Cupcake,” he notes, brushing a strand of hair off Rhys’ forehead. Then he looks over his shoulder to the lounging area of the office. “It’s a long story. Don’t you wanna sit down?” he suggests.

Sitting sounds good, especially if Rhys is in for more headaches, so he nods. They walk to the sofa and Rhys sits, but Jack walks over to the fireplace, using a switch to make flames rise in it. “You used to like this,” he explains to Rhys. “I though you might… Never mind.”

Jack sits next to Rhys but far enough to be polite, as if they were strangers. It is obvious that he would like to sit closer, but he is holding back, and it tugs at something in Rhys’ chest.

“The Earth is not the only planet that has life. There are hundreds. And one civilisation – the Eridians – wanted to make sure it stays that way. So, they created guardians that would make sure the life doesn’t destroy itself or the others. We have always been good at our job.” He smirks, for a second focusing on some memory. “Our powers disappear when we get close to each other. That way, neither one of us can try to harm the other one, take the world for themselves. That way, we can hurt the other one if they get too greedy, we can bring each other down. But we didn’t need that – we were perfect, this planet was prospering. Sure, there were the great wars, but that was when we still played by the rules.”

Rhys nods knowingly. “We stopped playing by the rules,” he guesses.

“Yes, we did,” Jack admits with a smirk. “And before you go blaming me, it was _you_ who wanted me to kill Hitler, and I stopped you. And look where it took us. I stopped holding back after the wars were finally over, and slowly, we undid the damage, finally brought order and peace to this world. But _They_ didn’t like it.” His expression turns sour and he gazes into the fire.

“At first, they sent messengers, asking us to kindly stop messing with the natural order of things. When we didn’t, they sent Lilith and Roland. They oversee a planet not far from Earth, a filthy, lawless land that they claim to be paradise. I thought that they are just coming to talk to us; Roland used to be one of the many messengers. But it was a trap.” Jack flexes his hands, his knuckles letting out a loud _pop_. “That bitch hit me with a fucking mighty hammer of doom or something, some damn artifact. Then it was chaos. My face was ruined, literally burning. I could feel my brain melting. And then it suddenly stopped.

“Your powers are amazing, Pumpkin. You’re a shit fighter, but you’re the strongest healer I know. None of us should be strong enough to beat the power of Eridian artifacts, but you healed me like it was nothing. Couldn’t quite undo the damage, but you saved my life.” Jack smiles, and Rhys returns it, but the air between them is filled with sadness.

“And then?” he asks, taking the step Jack doesn’t seem willing to take.

“You got close to me,” the other man explains. “I still don’t know how you managed to heal me, but then your powers ran out, and when Roland targeted you… I’ve seen him tear your arm off while Lilith was busy flying above us and showing off her wings of flame like some stupid angel of vengeance. I went a little crazy. Didn’t need my powers to kill him; he was weakened because Lilith was a little too close. Took two magazines, but he died. That bitch screamed like a banshee and fell from the sky, sending objects flying, shrapnel hitting everything. I though we were all going to die there, but then there was light, and I woke up in our bed. You weren’t there, and that bitch was gone from the planet. For years, I couldn’t find you, but I knew that you are alive because I could still _feel_ you…”

Jack heaves a deep breath, body involuntarily leaning closer to Rhys. With closed eyes, as if that could save him form the truth, he asks: “Do you… remember anything from this?”

Rhys shakes his head, then clears his throat and forces himself to say it out loud. It all feels right, feels like the truth, but he doesn’t remember. They both sigh and sit in silence until Rhys can’t stand it and stands up, walking over to the fireplace.

Feeling the warmth of the flames on his skin is calming. It feels like home, even when Jack quietly joins him, lingering just close enough that Rhys feels his breath on the back of his neck.

“Don’t put your hand in the flames,” Jack says suddenly, his voice amused.

“I wasn’t planning to,” Rhys frowns.

“Well, you liked to do that, putting your hand in the fire, flexing your invulnerability, and a few times, you forgot I’m with you and almost got burnt. So, I just thought… Never mind.” He clears his throat and begins to walk away.

“I still do that,” Rhys admits, getting Jack to stop. “I put my hand into the flames and watch my hand heal before the pain even reaches me.” He listens as Jack’s breath stutters, knowing well the implications of what he just said. It is there, all of it, somewhere in his head.

“Do you also—” Jack begins to ask, but his voice breaks. “Do you sing and dance in the rain or in the shower?”

“I haven’t had a shower in years; usually just wash myself in a river,” Rhys admits. “But… every time it rains, I sing and dance and laugh and feel like the world belongs to me. I sing _Hurt_ the most often. Your… Your favourite, right?” he guesses. He’s got a feeling about it, and judged by Jack’s reaction, he is right. “It’s all in my head, just… scrambled,” he sighs.

Jack nods and swallows heavily, then looks up, speaking to the ceiling. “Angel, can you play my favourite song, please?”

A female, slightly distorted and mechanical voice answers: _“Yes, Jack,”_ and then the song starts playing. _Hurt_.

Rhys shivers, not only at the song that he’d been singing without ever hearing it, but also at the name. _Angel_. He knows the name, and somehow, he also knows that Lilith took more than one thing from them on that day years ago, but he feels that it is not a good idea to ask. It would hurt them both.

Rhys closes the distance between him and Jack, hugging him. The other man wraps his arms around him, holding him tight as they share a moment, sharing the pain. Eventually, Rhys begins to sway lightly, unable to resist the lull of the music, and Jack chuckles, indulging him. He gently pushes Rhys until he turns around, leaning back against him. Jack’s hands rest on Rhys’ stomach and his chin on his shoulder, and they slowly sway until the song ends.

It feels natural, normal, like _home_. When Rhys thinks about it, it feels wrong to be so relaxed and do those things with someone he spent years running away from, but at the same time, it feels like the only _right_ thing in the world. This is the place where he is _meant_ to be.

“We will figure it out,” Jack says, as if reading his thoughts. “But first, you need a shower. You smell, kitten.”

Rhys snorts. This feels like Jack. Without even thinking about it, he tugs at his hand, leading the way back to the elevator. He pauses when he realises what he is doing and thinks. “This building was built before Lilith happened, right? We… We’ve lived here,” he states.

“Nicely said, Pumpkin – _Lilith happened_ ,” Jack snorts. But then he nods mutely.

Rhys smiles, ignoring the jab. In a way, he is coming back home, right? That is a reason to smile.

They walk through the corridor into the room with trophies, and Rhys pauses to see which ones feel familiar. A lot of them, much more than when he came here. Maybe the injury that took his memory can only heal when they are close, like the one Lilith did to Jack.

They ride to the penthouse in silence, but their fingers remain laced, their bodies pressed side to side. Rhys feels a little bad for staining Jack’s suit, that is beyond saving after all the hugging they did, but it is little price for being together. When the penthouse door opens for them, he steps in automatically, as if he did that every day.

The place is mostly open, only a few rooms separated from the main room by walls. There is a pool room, separated only by a glass wall, opposite to the bedrooms. Rhys’ first instinct is to walk to the second door, and he follows it, walking all the way up to it before he pauses, a pang of pain in his chest stopping him. He gasps and shudders, trying to decipher the feeling, but all he feels is loss. Of what or who, he doesn’t know.

When he turns around, Rhys sees the same pain he feels mirrored in Jack’s eyes. The other man walks up to him and hugs him, gently stroking his back until the uneasy feelings go away. Together, they walk back to the first bedroom, the one closest to the entrance. It is their bedroom, Rhys knows.

“We’ll be alright,” he hears himself say, and feels Jack nodding behind him as he follows him into the shower.

* * *

Rhys’ breathing is quick as the wind surges around him, the engine of his cyclone roaring as he speeds through the city, chasing after his own illusion. The giant thrasher that had attacked Earth seemed to only react to another thrasher when it came to taunting, so Rhys drives around and tries to keep the illusion moving naturally while staying out of reach of the real thing.

As a distraction, Jack speaks in his earpiece. _“Status report, Pumpkin Pie!”_

“Busy,” Rhys replies, taking a sharp turn. Both thrashers keep moving back to the beach where the monster emerged, so he has to drive through some ruins where the city was hit by the monster’s many tentacles. Then he fully realises what Jack said and bristles. “I told you not to call me that when we’re on the public channels, jackass!”

He hears Jack burst out laughing. _“So, not that_ busy _, I see,”_ he teases. _“C’mon,_ kitten _, I have to call you_ that _; it’s your callsign.”_

“You’re such an—” he stops himself as he focuses on passing through a street full of debris without losing balance. As silence stretches on the line, he can feel Jack’s unease. “You’re an ass!” he says quickly, immediately filled with relief. The connection between them grows stronger every day, and not even Jack can explain where it comes from, but Rhys doesn’t mind it. This way, he knows Jack is alright. And he gets to _feel_ his love.

 _“C’mon now, Pumpkin Pie, focus on your task,”_ the hero teases him. _“I’m almost ready over here. Can you take our pal into the sea for me?”_

“I’m trying,” Rhys mutters. He is not actually doing much, just memorising the way the thrasher moves and creating a delayed illusion of the same thing. Whenever the real tentacles reach for the fake body, Rhys tries to trick the monster’s sense of touch, but he has no proof that he is succeeding.

And well, he is also driving. Through debris. Boldly, because he knows nothing can hurt him.

After a few more minutes of chase, Rhys finally reaches the sea, finally seeing that both threshers are in the water. He notices that his illusion isn’t making the water move as violently as the real deal does, and corrects the mistake immediately, but it is too late.

“Shit!” Rhys swears. “Status report: illusion stopped working, currently coming up with another plan. And the giant seems angry that his friend was fake all along.”

Angry is a weak word. The beast seems furious, roaring and smashing everything that it can reach, and moving towards Rhys, the only living being in a fifteen mile radius. “Oh, come on, why is this always happening?” he groans. “Okay, okay, let’s see…”

Rhys summons an illusion of himself driving on a boat into the sea, but the thresher remains focused on him. “Ugh, of course you can sense me in some other way,” he mutters grumpily. “Jack, I won’t keep him in the water much longer!”

 _“I’m on my way! Just a few minutes!”_ comes an answer.

Thinking fast, Rhys sends the cyclone forward again, driving right towards the monster.

 _“Rhys? I see your tracker moving in a direction I don’t like!”_ Jack shouts in his ear, his voice distorted by wind. _“What are you doing?!”_

“Trust me, I know what I’m doing,” Rhys lies, reaching the beach. He makes a sharp turn just by the shoreline, barely escaping being squashed by a tentacle that hits the sand right behind him. He doesn’t feel like he knows what he is doing, but now it’s too late to come up with another plan. “If I stay close, the thrasher will stay in the water, because that is its natural habitat. Or something. Look, there is logic!”

 _“I don’t think a thresher cares about your logic,”_ Jack groans, exasperated. _“But hey, if it works, it works. I’m almost there.”_

At the end of the beach, Rhys makes a 180-degree turn and drives the same route again, back to the street. Now that the sand has much more indents of the thrasher’s tentacles, it is much harder to drive, but Rhys can manage, up until the wristwatch on his left hand begins to vibrate. At the same time, he hears Jack: _“Pumpkin, I need to you get out of there, preferably five minutes ago! What part don’t you understand about_ I’m getting close _?!”_

“I don’t see any other exit from the beach!” Rhys yells back, driving at maximum speed. Sand is getting everywhere, and at the same time, he feels his powers draining, which in turn means Jack’s powers are draining, which is pretty bad given that Jack is currently in the air.

“Hold on, I’ll come up with something.” As he looks around frantically, he sees that he is right in one thing – there is only one way he can get back onto the street. But there is a bench that was thrown by one of the earthquakes _just so_ it might serve as a ramp for him to use to get to a pedestrian area stretching along the beach, and from there, he might be able to get to one of the streets and drive away.

“Okay, I’ve got a plan,” he says, making a sharp turn and aligning himself with the bench.

 _“Would I agree with the plan?”_ Jack asks suspiciously.

“It will get me away from you,” Rhys hisses. “And if I’m fast enough, I won’t even get hurt!”

 _“For fuck’s sake!”_ Jack swears, but even his voice is rather soft. He knows that Rhys wouldn’t take any unnecessary risks if there was another way.

The bench holds up, maybe too well, seeing that it sends him and his vehicle flying too high and he bursts through the glass door of the nearest store. Rhys bites his tongue not to scream as the glass shatters and rains all around him, miraculously not hurting him seriously. He falls out of the cyclone when it hits the back wall of the store but lands into something soft.

 _“Bomb’s in place!”_ Jack calls not a minute later, and Rhys runs out of the building.

“I’m running north. No, wait, east, it’s east!” he corrects himself.

 _“God dammit, Rhys!”_ Jack hisses into the com. _“I’m heading south!”_

Their powers are at full force again, but for some reason, Jack screams in pain, and the blood in Rhys’ veins stops for a second. “Jack? Jack?!” he calls frantically.

 _“That bitch is eridian! Broke my fucking leg!”_ Jack groans, but he doesn’t sound very pained, rather irritated. _“I’m gonna need a healer after this. Jeeze, its tentacle got me from behind, that’s not nice.”_

Rhys rolls his eyes. “If you’re kidding, I won’t even get you a band-aid. Is your leg broken or not?”

_“Totally broken. Meet you home?”_

“I’ll be there!”

* * *

As soon as the elevator door opens, Rhys runs into Jack’s arms, so fast that he actually tackles him to the ground. They both roll around for a while, Jack grunting and Rhys giggling, until he realises that Jack is covered in some kind of slime.

“Ow, my old bones, Rhys!” Jack groans, head thudding against the floor as he gives up on trying to shuck Rhys off him.

“Ew, what is this?” Rhys whines, ignoring Jack’s grunting as he accidentally elbows him in the stomach. “Is that from placing the bomb? Is this thrasher goo? Jack!”

“You’re the one who jumped me!” the other man advocates with a chuckle.

“Oh, right!” Rhys’ face splits with a grin. “I was in a rush. Listen! In 1454, we were on a small fair in France, and you bought a flower for me and put it in my hair, and then we had to run because they wanted to burn us alive for being gay and we didn’t want to cause so much chaos on our vacation. And then we found a meadow full of those flowers and you wanted your money back when you found out they are so common, and I had to stop you from going back.”

“That’s correct,” Jack nods with a smile. “Did you just remember? That got ya so excited?”

Rhys grins and nods, and for a second, they forget about the grossness and kiss. They enjoy their little moment, until Jack decides that he can’t wait any longer and drags them both into the shower.

“How’s your broken leg?” Rhys teases.

“Oh, here,” Jack stops and points at his leg. There is a small bleeding scratch, two inches long and zero inches deep. Rhys gives him an unimpressed glare. “Would it be too much to hope for a band-aid?” the hero asks innocently.

“I won’t even kiss it better,” Rhys scoffs. Contrary to his words, and to the whole _we lose our powers when we’re together_ rule, the wound begins to heal, disappearing almost instantly.

“Thanks, Pumpkin, you’re the best!” Jack pats his cheek condescendingly and begins to get out of his goo-slick clothes.

“How did you really get it?” Rhys asks curiously, knowing the hero well.

“Tripped while I was on the thresher’s head – don’t laugh, it was covered in this slick! – and fell on some bony thingy sticking out of its head. Don’t laugh!” he growls, but it has no effect on the healer.

“You’re unbelievable,” Rhys cackles. “You tripped while placing a bomb!”

“Shut up,” Jack grumbles, helping him out of his clothes. “It was after placing the bomb.”

They step into the shower, big and luxurious enough that Jack could host a party in it. Warm water streams from various shower heads, quickly washing the slime away. For good measure, both men scrub themselves down with soap two times.

They don’t get out immediately, hugging in the warm rain until Rhys chuckles. “Are you waiting for me to…”

“Yeah,” Jack breaths out. “C’mon, indulge me.”

Rhys huffs, but he can’t deny the way this gesture warms him. Jack loves when he sings, and Rhys loves singing. He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes, tipping his head back and letting the water wash over him for a while. Calm.

“ _I hurt myself today, to see if I still feel…_ ”

Jack kisses his shoulder, then his temple, lightly swaying with Rhys, and when the song ends, he asks for another one, then another. Then they get out, drying each other off with towels.

“Bed and a day off?” Jack asks. “We deserve it.”

“Hmm,” Rhys pretends to think about it. “I think we deserve more than just sleep. Leave that to mortals.” He wraps his arms around Jack, both the organic and the cybernetic one, powered by ~~stolen~~ borrowed eridian technology.

“I like your thinking, Pumpkin,” Jack smirks, and effortlessly picks him up. Even without his powers, he is strong enough to do this, especially when Rhys always gasps in such a nice way, motivating him to do it more often.

Jack brings Rhys to their bedroom, dumping him on the bed. Immediately, he is crawling on the bed too, pressing Rhys into the mattress. The healer melts under the hero, moaning, and Jack laughs. “Jeeze, kitten, I’m not even doing anything yet.”

“Shut’p,” Rhys grumbles, pulling Jack into a kiss.

“You like when I show you how strong I am, right?” Jack goes on as soon as his lips are free, his hands smoothing down Rhys’ sides. “Yeah you do. Want Handsome Jack to fuck you hard, manhandle you like you weight nothing?”

“Your ego isn’t sexy,” Rhys groans, but he knows nothing can stop Jack from talking. Not even a ball gag.

“Isn’t it?” Jack asks, taking him in hand suddenly, getting a groan out of him. “But you’re already hard, kitten. I’m getting some mixed signals over here.”

“Jack!” Rhys attempts to slap him, but Jack dodges it easily.

“Okay, okay, I get it. Know what? Usually, I would ask you what you want, but today, you did so good in the streets, I’m gonna give you a free pass.” He slowly, teasingly moves down, stopping at Rhys’ stomach to plant a kiss there, like he always does, and then continuing lower. Putting Rhys’ thighs on his shoulders, he gives him one last smug smirk before his tongue dives between Rhys’ cheeks, licking a long stripe over his butthole.

“Finally,” Rhys sighs, relaxing. Soon, he starts moaning as Jack opens him up, knowing well what he likes the most. When he adds fingers, Rhys has to bite his tongue as not to beg Jack to fuck him right then, because he isn’t as invincible as he is used to be.

As soon as Rhys is relaxed enough for Jack to move three fingers within him, he replaces them with his lubed up dick, thrusting in all at once. Rhys arches off the bed, but he has nowhere to escape to as Jack starts fucking him almost viciously, long strong thrusts.

“Ah, Jack!” the healer moans. “More, please, more!”

“Greedy,” Jack hisses but picks up his pace, pounding Rhys’ ass until he sees stars. Feeling that he won’t be able to last, he angles his hips to aim at Rhys’ sweet spot, hitting every time.

Rhys comes with a shout, whole body going rigid. Jack’s pace turns erratic, and so he wraps his legs and arms around him. “Come inside, please,” he whispers, taking advantage of how ragged his voice is.

Jack swears as he comes, filling Rhys’ ass. “Freaking hell, Rhysie,” he groans, riding out his orgasm. “You’re killing me with these surprises.”

Rhys gives him an innocent look and gets flicked on the nose for that. They stay in bed after that, lazily watching the sun set over the city from their big window. Jack has one arm under Rhys’ head and the other one resting on his belly. “I love you,” he whispers, not sure whether his lover is listening or asleep.

“I love you too,” Rhys answers, putting his hand over Jack’s. A small ache settles in his heart, one he is deeply familiar with. They still haven’t opened the other door, but they are getting there. One day, the time will come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “But Elf, there was no Canine Virus pandemic in 2002,” you say? Well, that’s because Rhys cured it! B) Deal witt it!
> 
> Okay, this got out of hand, and I didn't even get to cover all of it. I might have to go back to this.
> 
> Things that didn't fit in the story:  
> 1) Jack has wings like a Siren, yellow/golden ones.  
> 2) They had a child, Angel. I went against myself here. I won't disclose whether Angel was killed, or just taken, because she wasn't supposed to be born. I have a vague idea how she happened, and it's not the conventional Mpreg.  
> 3) Jack thinks the Eridians are sending the monsters at them, and Rhys thinks it's silly, because the Eridians don't do half-assed things. They either send a monster strong enough to take them down, or they don't send any.  
> 4) Rhys will get his memories back, eventually. The best moment of his life is remembering Angel and the time when they were one big happy family.


	9. Royalty AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: Teen and Up  
> Trigger Warnings: none  
> Additional Tags: Humour, Hyperion Prince Jack, Atlas Prince Rhys, Rhys has many siblings, Tassiter is Jack's father, **space dragons** , Humour, Dialogue  
> Wordcount: 2547
> 
> For [Lemscape](https://twitter.com/Lemscape).

Handsome Jack, the son of Herold Tassiter of Hyperion, reached the age of twenty-eight, and his father finally lost his patience. Jack should have been married years ago, but obviously, he was incapable of finding a partner for himself, which brought headaches to many of his father’s advisors. In this day and age, nobody cared whether the prince married a man or a woman, rich or a poor, human or AI or a big blob of slime. He could have literally anyone, and the only importance of marriage was that it was his kingdom’s tradition. In order to become a king, he had to marry, but for some reason, he failed to do that, probably hoping that his father will die soon, and he will somehow escape the tradition.

Fortunately, the king didn’t declare that whoever wins some kind of an absurd contest will get his son’s hand. That would be barbaric. No, his decision was much more civilised, though Jack claimed that it was a billion times crueller. Every day from early in the morning to late in the evening, he was forced to accept suitors in the throne room, talk to them and then decide whether they are worthy. That meant talking to up to twenty new people every day, for as long as he didn’t choose a partner. And because he was as stubborn as his father, even though he hated this arrangement and often tried to escape it, he managed to withstand it for three whole months. By that time, he was sure that he had met half of the galaxy.

The truth that nobody but Jack knew was that he wasn’t interested in marriage simply because he wanted to travel and explore the world first. He wanted to be a hero first, and only then become a king. He wanted to take a spaceship and run, slay space dragons and rescue planets from destroyers. A partner would stand in his way, not to mention that even if they didn’t do that, they would get the kingdom if he were to die on his journey and that would lead to a different bloodline taking over Hyperion. If he remains unmarried, Timothy will become the successor instead if something happens to him.

Day by day, Jack suffers through courtship after courtship, not a single person being even the slightest bit impressive to him. In three months, only a handful stuck in his mind, and none of them in a positive way. If it were possible, he would escape the planet, but all the security measures his father put up were impassable. As often as he could, he tried to avoid this duty, even breaking an arm to escape it, but the two day stay in the infirmary wasn’t worth it. They brought suitors to his bed. Jack considered purposefully catching a deadly and dangerous disease, so nobody could come close to him for some time, but the cons won over the pros in that case.

It was the first day of the fourth month of Jack’s suffering, the fifth suitor of the day, when a man of the Atlas kingdom was brought into the throne room. Jack and the four guards who also made sure he is safe, but mainly that he doesn’t run or disappear, were the only Hyperions in there, his father and his advisors having lost patience long ago. Twelve guards in shining silver armour with red ribbons on their weapons and pitch-black fabric of their pants and leather boots walked in, four of them escorting the king and the queen of Atlas and eight of them carrying a half wood, half gold construction in which Jack’s next suitor was. Probably some spoiled princess.

He ignored the king and the queen as they were introduced, playing with a bean-filled ball that he had to craft himself after Wilhelm took the last one of his juggling balls from him. He threw it up and caught it, eyes fixed on the ceiling of the room, until one time, the ball didn’t fall back into his palm after he threw it up. The prince looked to the floor, to his lap, and then finally to the side to see Wilhelm, the most fearsome guard, putting the ball in his pocket. _Great!_

“Duh, okayyyy,” he groans and stands up, half-heartedly straightening his clothes. As soon as the royal family has his attention, the stretcher or whatever with the suitor is placed on the floor and the veil that covers the front of it is lifted.

A very bored looking man is revealed. He is sitting askew in the velvet cushioned chair, supporting his chin with one fist and barely paying Jack one glance before huffing and going back to picking the nails of his left hand. The king gives his son a scandalised glare and clears his throat loudly. With another huff, the prince rolls his eyes and stands up, bowing to Jack in a girly way, pinching a non-existent skirt in his fingers as he exaggerates the gesture way too much. The scandalised gasp his mother gives is totally worth it, in Jack’s opinion.

“Okay, you know the rules, fuck off and let me talk to your precious princess alone,” the prince of Hyperion addresses the parents and their guards. With one last warning glare to his son, the king leaves, followed by everyone else. Jack and the Atlas prince are left alone as even the Hyperion guards leave to stand by the doors out of the room. Jack is a good fighter, and nobody is really worried for his safety.

“Nice show, Pumpkin,” he compliments the other prince, slowly walking back to his throne to sit down. “I see that you don’t want to be here, which is something we have in common – by the way, you’re probably the first chump who came here who I have something in common with – so let’s make a deal. We’ll spend a few hours here ignoring each other and then I’ll kindly decline your offer. I’ll get a few hours of peace and you’ll get to say that you had Handsome Jack’s precious attention for five whole hours! What’cha say?”

The other prince shrugs. “Sure, I don’t see why not,” he says. “But I’ll need you to _kindly decline my offer_ , or well, actually, don’t be kind _at all_ , be rude, right in my parents’ faces. Can you do that?”

“Sure,” Jack agrees with a smirk. He watches as the prince looks back to his velvety chair with disgust and then walks over to Jack and the thrones, sitting in the queen’s throne in a way that would probably make Jack’s mother faint – one leg thrown over the armrest, head hanging over the other one. “What’s your name, Atlas?” the Hyperion prince asks curiously. That guy looks like he might be fun.

The prince is silent for a few seconds, lips pursed with repulsion, and then he says: “Let’s just say it’s Rhys. I don’t have the time and energy to say the whole name my parents gave me.”

Jack laughs. “Classic,” he comments it. “Is it as bad as Jonathan Herold Alma Maxim Damien Lawrence of Hyperion?” he teases, unable to supress a scoff at his terrible name.

Rhys chuckles and shakes his head. “Much worse,” he says. He takes a deep breath and then recites: “Raymond Marcus Allen Ethan Veeran Gabriel Typhon Krom—”

“Whoa, okay, you win,” Jack admits, doubling over laughing right after. “ _Jeeze_ , kiddo, do you have one for every letter of the alphabet? Which one do you have for J? Ahahaha!”

“James,” Rhys answers with a scoff, sending Jack into an even bigger laughing fit. “Know what, try to guess a letter that I don’t have,” he challenges, ignorant to the other prince’s mocking, though his cheeks get a fair bit of pink dusting.

“Hmm,” Jack hums thoughtfully, barely stifling more laughing. “Q and W would be the obvious choice, but most of the names you have are weird, so I wouldn’t be surprised to find Quincy and Westley there. Let’s try C.”

“Cedric,” Rhys snorts. “My tenth name; my great great grandfather’s name. But good try.”

“Dammit,” Jack swears, laughing again. “You’re something else, Pumpkin.”

“Thanks, I don’t even try,” Rhys rolls his eyes at him. “Seriously, I don’t. Don’t be impressed by me, _please_.”

Jack laughs again. He tries to, but he can’t let it go. “Why exactly do you want me to turn you down in front of your mommy and daddy?”

Rhys pays him a long contemplative glance. “I thought we were gonna ignore each other,” he reminds, but then he relents. “I’m the youngest in my family. I have two older brothers and six sisters, each one of them married. There is no chance I’ll ever get to the throne, which I don’t even want, but they still insist I should get married. Atlas has the same stupid politics as Hyperion, and it’s _absurd_. How would me being married make me more suitable to be a king, especially when I don’t want to be one?” he throws his arms in the air dramatically, then lets them fall on his stomach, lacing his fingers.

“I’m pretty sure that this is the last chance my parents are giving me, and if you don’t want me, they’ll drop the topic.” One of Rhys’ hands is cybernetic, but it is hidden under a glove made of silk. Jack only notices because Rhys’ wrist gets partially uncovered by the dramatic gesture.

“Can I see your hand?” Jack asks, curiosity spiking up. He ignores Rhys’ snort and his comment that Jack could have at least pretended to listen to him, already reaching to the other throne to pull Rhys’ hand closer, almost pulling the prince off the chair in the process.

The cybernetic seems to reach all the way to Rhys’ shoulder, as Jack discovers by squeezing his arm through his sleeve. Without asking, he tugs the glove off the prince’s hand, revealing a sleek silver cybernetic.

The Hyperion prince whistles in admiration. “That’s some fine work here, kiddo,” he appraises.

“Thanks,” Rhys hums, for the first time sounding at least slightly sincere. “It has some faults, but it’s pretty good. I need to figure out how to work in more touch receptors and how to make the shoulder joint—”

“Whoa, slow down!” Jack interrupts him. “ _You_ made this?” he asks, studying the limb with much more attention to the detail now.

“Yeah, long ago. I’m already working on a better one,” Rhys admits. “By the way, I’ve kept an eye on Hyperion stabilization technology. If you ever feel like making a deal with Atlas, I’ll be sure to find something worthy to offer in exchange.”

“Like hell am I ever gonna make a deal with Atlas!” the older prince snorts.

“Thought so,” Rhys chuckles. “Well, I’ll work hard, and maybe I’ll change your mind.” He winks, his blue left eye lighting up. Jack whistles again but schools his gaping expression when he notices Rhys’ smug smirk. But the younger man had noticed. He straightens out in the chair and beckons Jack over with the cybernetic hand. “Wanna have a look?” he says. “The eye is much more impressive. I’d like to say I’m working on a better one, but I’m not there yet.”

Unable to resist, Jack stands up and walks over to Rhys, who keeps his gaze with a small challenge in his face. Using one hand to hold Rhys’ head still by his chin and the other to move his eyelids away, Jack inspects the eye, noticing a small **_H_** branding in the circuit pattern of it. He scoffs.

“Stealin’ some prime tech, sweetheart?” he teases, letting go of the younger prince. The way Rhys lets out a long breath that he seemed to be holding while Jack was close doesn’t go unnoticed, nor does the shiver that runs through his body when their eyes meet again, this time much closer.

“Not stealing anything,” Rhys defends himself, a little breathless. “I needed an eye, so I thought I could as well get the full set when I’m at it.” He taps his temple, pointing out the port there. “All the software that could be replaced was already replaced by my upgrades, though.”

By that point, Jack is sure Rhys is the first interesting person to try and court him… The problem is that Rhys isn’t courting him, he isn’t interested.

“So, what do you want to do besides developing cybernetics and not getting married?” he asks, a plan being born in his head.

“Well, for one, I want to study and do some travelling first…”

Reasonable, Jack thinks.

“Then maybe some adventures. I want to save planets, slay space dragons, become a hero and make Atlas great again.”

Jack’s stomach does a somersault and his heart skips a few beats. Screw coming up with a plan! He knows what to say to get the prince on his side.

“Say, Atlas, would you be interested in making a deal with Hyperion?”

* * *

“Handsome Jack, sir! We have found the beast, and it’s coming right for us!”

The squeaky voice of the ship navigator is not what Jack had wanted to hear instead of an alarm on the morning of his big day, but he doesn’t let that fact ruin the day for him. Quickly getting out of bed, he starts putting on clothes, meanwhile scolding the young man: “It’s not a beast; it’s a sentient being ten times as intelligent as you. You should remember that, maybe then it won’t eat you first.”

“Yes, sir!” the man squeaks and runs out of his room. Jack follows at a calmer pace, striding through his ship in full gear. His yellow armour makes him look like the hero he is.

Rhys is already on the deck, giving out commands. In his black and red armour, he looks stunning. His orange eye is shining as he runs calculations for dodging manoeuvres, and he doesn’t notice his husband at first.

All attention eventually turns to Jack, the soon-to-be king, but he waves his hand at his underlings dismissively. “Listen to the second in command, you bunch of chumps!” he yells, enjoying their startled looks. He takes a hold of a railing and wraps an arm around Rhys’ waist just in time to stabilise them both before turbulence shakes the whole ship.

“Hey,” the Atlas prince welcomes him with a kind smile that doesn’t fit the combat situation they are heading into. “Did you get some sleep?”

“Managed to get a few hours in,” he nods, and then he leans in to briefly kiss Rhys.

“Sorry that you weren’t there when we found her,” Rhys sighs when they part. “She looked awesome before she started trying to kill us

“She looks awesome now,” Jack counters. “I’m just glad you were here, otherwise we’d be dead. These people, I swear…” he openly insults his underlings even as most of them hang on his every word, waiting for more commands. The ship makes another manoeuvre, barely dodging a laser beam coming out of the monster’s eyes.

With a maniacal grin, Jack looks Rhys in the eyes and asks: “Shall we slay a space dragon, my love?”


	10. Pirates AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: Explicit  
> Trigger Warnings: Implied Rape/Non-Con, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Implied Sexual Slavery, Revenge Murder (off-screen), missing body parts  
> Additional Tags: They aren't actually pirates, I guess, Hurt/Comfort, Timothy as the twin brother!, Mute character, **Hyperion Voice Lady** , Angst and Humour and Angst, Fluff, Butt Plugs, Cum  
> Wordcount: 2988
> 
> Heads up, this one is dark! Rhys went through some shit, but Jack is here to help.

_“Another victory to the most feared admiral of the Hyperion fleet. The grin on the face of Handsome Jack might confuse some, for he looks like a lion that defeated the prey, about to feast on its corpse, not like the hero that just saved the innocent people of the Triton Falls Coast from the evil—”_

“Will you shut the fuck up, voice lady?!” a gruff voice interrupts the narrator. “I hired you to make ‘booty salad’ rhyme with ‘Jack gets laid’, not to sing songs about how awesome I am. That’s Timmy’s job! Right, Timmy?”

There is an annoyed sigh, followed by the voice artist leaving the deck, and then a scoff. “For the last time, Jack, I’m your brother, not—”

“La-la-la, I don’t care. Tell them I’m coming in.”

Timothy shakes his head but leaves too, to give out the orders. The captain, his identical twin, is left alone on the quarter deck. He watches the destroyed, sinking and burning ships of the pirate fleet in front of him, relishing in knowing that he is the one who brought their doom, and they damn well deserved it.

When he thinks nobody is looking, he takes a medallion out of his shirt, deftly opening it and revealing the picture inside. It is but a small sketch, but the face is clearly one of his past lover. The _betraying bastard_ that switched sides on the first occasion he got and left without saying goodbye. The bastard that Jack will one day drown with his own bare hands.

_“And thus, the sea lion mourns—”_

“I told you to shut the fuck up!” Jack whips around, scowling at the artist in annoyance. The woman just shrugs at him nonchalantly and retreats again. When she had climbed down from the quarterdeck, she tells him, still in her stupidly feign cheery voice, that the path is clear, and his grandiose entrance is expected.

Contemplating returning the woman to where he found her – or close by, anyway; he has no idea where he found her – Jack jumps elegantly down to the main deck of his ship and from there walks over a board to the half-destroyed pirate ship. It is the main one, Zanara.

All captured pirates are lined up on the main deck, the captain among them. Jack heads right towards him, a gleeful smirk on his face. His and Katagawa’s history went way back, and he will enjoy finally defeating him. In the corner of his eye, Jack watches as Timothy shakes his head at what is coming, orders two soldiers to follow him and breaks into the captain’s cabin instead to loot.

“Well, well, well,” Jack says as he slowly closes the distance and stands in front of the kneeling pirate. “Finally, you will—” His threatening and surely awesome speech is cut off, however, when he hears his brother’s scream.

His trusty pistol is in his hands immediately, and Jack runs faster than any soldier as he follows the noise. After the curt scream, there is an obvious commotion, but it is over before Jack even reaches the door.

One of the soldiers walks out, supporting Timothy, who seems kind of dazed, holding his forehead with one hand. Noticing his admiral, the soldier straightens out and reports: “It was the captain’s slave, sir. Hit him in the head with a golden statue. His swing was like child’s, thankfully.”

More sounds of struggle come from the cabin as the other soldier tries to drag the supposed slave out. Jack’s eyes are on his brother when that happens, studying the wound on his head. Timothy looks up and meets his eyes when he tries to pull his hand away from the wound to prod at it. “Jack,” he says, voice strained as he grips to consciousness by sheer force of will. “You will want to see him.”

Finally, the admiral looks to the other men, first the soldier that is holding a slave by his wrist and collar to keep him from struggling, then at the slave himself. Naked, body covered in scars, bony and almost starved, with only one arm and a green eyepatch over his left eye, but still somehow as gorgeous as years ago – an obvious pirate’s slave. His Rhys.

_“All movement stops and even the wild sea quiets down as the sea lion comes to a realisation…”_

Jack doesn’t have the time, the will, the _strength_ to tell the stupid artist to shut the fuck up or ask her how did she get to the other ship, because he indeed comes to a realisation. “All those years,” he hears himself say, voice so quiet that only the four other men can hear him. “You were… You didn’t run… I…”

He wants to apologise, to fall to his knees and beg for forgiveness, because he spent years cursing his lover’s name while he could have been searching for him. Because Rhys didn’t desert, didn’t switch sides. He was kidnapped by pirates right from Jack’s bedroom.

 _“The fleet admiral fights to keep a mask of indifference in front of his men, but tears—”_ the woman continues to comment the reunion, though she stops when the admiral growls.

“Take them both to my cabin,” he orders the two soldiers in a steady voice. His face turns dark, promising terrible things to come, and the two men obey immediately. Jack turns back to the main deck. “Tie the captain to the mast and lock all his men in the hull.”

“But the hull is already flooded, and they would—” someone begins to complain, but they are silenced by another soldier jabbing them in the ribs. “Yes, admiral!”

“In the name of the King,” Jack mocks. “Let the ship sink. We are leaving now.”

He ignores Voice Lady's retelling of his orders in favour of rushing back to his cabin, his heavy steps shaking the long board that connects the ships. Jack’s beloved Helios is bigger than the poor excuse of a ship, Zanara. His cabin has multiple rooms, including the bedroom, the study/secondary navigation room, and a lounging room. Both Timothy and Rhys were taken to the latter, and the soldier’s salute and leave as soon as the admiral enters.

As much as Jack cares about his brother’s well-being, he doesn’t pay him any mind. He walks right to the armchair where Rhys is sitting uneasily and falls to one knee, taking his past lover’s face in his hands and bringing their lips together. Rhys gasps and tenses up, then sobs and returns the kiss shyly.

Jack pulls away only to look at Rhys’ face, making sure he is really there. He distinctively realises that they are both crying and sobbing, gently touching each other's face as if afraid that the illusion will shatter.

Somewhere next to them, Timothy clears his throat, reminding them of his existence. “I’ll tell the men you wish not to be disturbed. I’ll take over for the rest of the day after I visit the infirmary, so you two have time to catch up.” He stands up, only slightly wobbly, but then pauses. “Welcome back, Rhys,” he says kindly. “You can keep the coat.”

The younger man nods and hugs Tim’s borrowed coat closer to his otherwise naked body. As the door clicks shut behind the twin, his eyes return to the admiral, lips tugging up in a hint of a smile. Jack thumbs at it gently, then runs his fingers over Rhys’ hollowed cheek.

“I’m so glad you are back,” he says quietly. Instead of answering, Rhys pulls him into another shy kiss. Jack accepts it hungrily, runs his tongue over Rhys’ lips to silently ask for more, and when the younger man takes too long to react, forces his tongue between his lips like he always did.

Rhys pulls away at the same time as Jack frowns in confusion. More tears spill from his lover’s eye and his cheeks paint in red. He tries to look away, but Jack’s hand cupping his jaw stops him.

“Let me take a look,” Jack gently coaxes, quickly figuring out what is going on. He waits a few heartbeats, and then nudges Rhys’ chin with a thumb.

Rhys’ lips part slowly, hesitantly, until his mouth is wide open. He has quite a few teeth less than Jack remembers, but the main thing that is missing is most of his tongue.

“Oh, Rhysie,” the admiral sighs, stroking his jaw to tell him he can close it now. “I should have set that bastard on fire, cut his cock off and take his eyes out with a rusty spoon! Actually, I can still do that if I give the order now...”

A trembling hand grasps his sleeve, and Jack understands even without words. “Don’t worry,” he says. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Rhys sighs and leans forward, resting his forehead on Jack’s shoulder. The coat falls and pools around his waist, and Jack is once more treated to the sight of Rhys’ bare body. Starved, tortured, and most prominently, though Jack still fails to care, lacking an arm.

The admiral's fingers are rough from years spent on a ship, hardened with callouses. Rhys’ skin has always been smooth and perfect, and Jack’s fingers twitch, dying to touch it. He lets himself do it, slowly trailing the tips of his fingers from Rhys’ sides to his shoulders. He counts every protruding rib and every scar he meets. When he wants to touch the stump, though, the younger man pulls away from him.

“How did you lose it?” Jack asks, trying to sound reassuring. Rhys just looks away from him, face scrunching up with deep emotional hurt. “Okay, I won’t ask. How do you feel about a bath?” he suggests instead.

Rhys begins to nod his head but then stops, tensing up. Jack only has to wonder shortly what the reason for that is. He winces but forces himself to speak calmly. “I won’t touch you if you don’t want to. I won’t hurt you or force you. Just thought you might like a bath.”

After another minute of consideration, the younger man nods. Jack leaves him in the armchair for a while as he orders someone to fill his bath with hot water. By the time it is half-filled, he feels the ship begin to move forward as Timothy probably gave the order to set sails. Rhys is lightly dozing off in the chair, covered by two coats now, and Jack allows himself to retreat to his bedroom for a while.

While he had sworn to kill Rhys for his suspected betrayal, he couldn’t help it but keep some of his possessions, having them on his bed nightstand as artefacts of cherished memories. He lied to himself and told himself that he keeps them for the places and moments when those memories were created, but the truth was that he loved Rhys and wanted to remember him without the heavy weight of lies.

One of the things is a light blue satin eyepatch. It was forgotten on the nightstand when Rhys disappeared, and Jack kept it. He takes the patch and a big and sharp knife that he and Rhys stole from the defeated captain of the Dahl fleet.

The bath is filled when he comes out of the room, so he goes to gently wake Rhys. He shakes his left shoulder and murmurs some sweet words, trying to not be intimidating with a knife in his hand.

But Rhys isn’t scared when he wakes up. He blinks, one brown eye staring at Jack for a second, and then he smiles an honest, toothy grin. Not understanding what is Rhys happy about but totally sharing the enthusiasm, Jack smiles too. Only then the younger man notices the knife, and his smile disappears.

“For the collar,” Jack explains quickly. “I’m pretty sure I can cut through the leather with this. Can you lean back a little for me?”

Rhys eyes the knife one more time, then does as he is asked. He twitches when Jack’s fingers touch his neck but relaxes once he starts carefully but effectively cutting into the leather part of the collar. There is a big lock and an O-ring on it too. The admiral doesn’t what to know what that was used for.

When the thing is finally broken and falls heavily to the floor, Rhys kicks it away with disdain and then bursts out crying. Jack offers his shoulder to him, and when Rhys allows him to pick him up, carries him to the bath. Fresh linen cloths and towels are waiting there for them, as well as expensive and exotic soaps.

But Rhys doesn’t look happy about the luxury. He stiffens again, sniffling and shaking his head.

“What? Do you want me to leave you alone?” Jack asks uncertainly. Rhys grips the fabric of his shirt tighter in answer, pulls him closer. “Then what is the matter, kitten?”

Rhys doesn’t react at first. It takes a lot more coaxing and gentle words to get him to look up to Jack, eye red and face pink, and reach back with one hand. Jack follows the movement of Rhys’ hand until it disappears between his ass cheeks and then looks him in the face again in confusion. Rhys’ brows scrunch up in concentration, then pain, and finally, he whimpers and stops doing whatever he was trying to do.

“Okay, what’s going on?” Jack asks, feeling his patience running thin. He was never the patient, gentle one, and as much as he is trying, he cannot hold his temper back forever. He decides that since he isn’t getting any answer from Rhys anyway, he will have to look.

The younger man obeys when he is told to turn around, though he looks highly uncomfortable. The source of the discomfort becomes obvious when he leans forward a little.

Jack cannot hold back a disgusted scoff. Not at Rhys or the glass butt plug in his ass, but at Katagawa. Prepping Rhys had always been one of Jack’s favourite pass times. Being able to turn him into a shuddering mess, wring all the moans out of him with just his fingers. But the stupid pirate obviously didn’t know what is good and had to use toys to keep Rhys ready.

“Do you want me to take it out?” Jack asks, pushing disgust out of his voice. He touches Rhys’ side gently, slowly pulling him into a hug from behind. It gets the younger man to relax, and he nods.

Jack helps Rhys kneel on the floor and brace himself on the edge of the tub, and then patiently eases the plug out of him. Rhys shudders and hides his face in the crook of his elbow when it comes loose, some cum leaking out of him.

“Shh, it’s alright,” the admiral soothes. “I’ll help you clean up. Everything is alright, baby. You are safe, you are with me, you are home.”

His words seem to only make everything worse as Rhys begins to cry again. But when Jack coaxes him to look up at him, there is a weak smile on his face.

“You are home,” he repeats, adding a smirk of his own. “Come on, let’s get you in the bath.”

As expected, Jack is urged by a series of tugging at his clothes and body parts to stay. He doesn’t dare to join Rhys in the bath, afraid of hurting him. But he takes off his shirt and helps him wash himself. Well, it is Jack in the end who does most of the job, using a soft washcloth and the most expensive soaps.

The last part – something that had always been a part of their routine – is taking off the eyepatch. Rhys is already sitting on the edge of the tub, wrapped in linen towels, and Jack has to cut one of his own sashes to shreds to create a cloth soft enough for cleaning Rhys’ left eye.

It looks exactly like it always looked when only Rhys took care of it. He never bothered to be thorough with cleaning it. Jack wipes at the eyelids patiently until all white matter is gone. Rhys’ white, unseeing eye peeks through a slit in the lids after they finally part, not glued together by the pus.

Jack doesn’t return the green eyepatch to Rhys, giving him his old, blue one instead. Somebody brought early dinner to the captain’s cabin in the meantime, so they go and eat, Rhys slowly, tearing food into small pieces and pushing them in the back of his mouth. Jack doesn’t have much of an appetite but forces himself to eat slowly as long as Rhys is eating, not wanting to make him uncomfortable by just sitting there.

They retreat to Jack’s bedroom then, where Rhys spends a few minutes touching and admiring every artifact on Jack’s nightstand, smiling at the memories. A few times, he turns to the admiral and taps his temple twice, smiling. Jack understands, answering by flicking Rhys’ nose or caressing his cheek. His lover seems to like communicating without words better.

He cannot avoid talking when they lay in his bed later, though. He rambles, admits to his fault, to the disappointment he was to the younger man. He apologies over and over that he abandoned him, that he didn’t believe in him more, that he didn’t look for him enough.

In the end, Rhys stops him by putting a finger over Jack’s mouth, then moving it lower to cover his heart with his palm.

“I love you too,” Jack whispers, voice hoarse from crying, and Rhys beams at him, nodding. Jack scoffs, smirk playing at his lips. “What, did you think I wouldn’t understand what that means?” he asks, holding Rhys’ hand in place with one of his. “I don’t need words, I just need you.”

**Author's Note:**

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